Gwil James Thomas

An Extinction Poem,
Written After Waking
Early One Morning

Buried beneath
dinosaur wishbones
and the rubble
of empires,
grains of sand
move through an
ancient hourglass,
as the sky
turns blood red,
fruit flies fuck on
the ceiling
of a sultry
motel room,
watching
humans
breed beneath
them
while muttering –
great that’s all 
the world needs 
another human,
realising that
those words
will be lost in time,
as will these words
and all our words.

Have a nice day – 
I’m going back 
to sleep.

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