Anaphora
by Kim Clark
When the world ends
I will flail and thrash against madness, knowing
the power of desert heat and the peace of a cedar forest.
I will break with tradition and follow a star
across the milky way, dropping hard right
through the northern lights onto the frozen ice
of Lake Winnipeg near Hecla Island.
I will fold into myself like origami
And fly through the ashen vacuum, blind
To reach Panajachel or Santa Marta
and unhand the invisible equator
I will slide through monuments and memorials
pyramids and towers in a flash of dry pain
and know the sweetness of banana, bite of hate
Fly into myself through my mother’s folded
arms and out the other side.
In a million years I will,
I will come back
and start again.