It was a year full of portents

       except too many of them were coming true.

Today, news of dams broken in the night,
       buildings toppling whole into newly-opened 

ravines filled with water. A famous novelist 
       said in a news interview that she'd been packing 

a Go Bag; recently she bought a rifle 
       as part of her preparations. I remember

when everyone was adding "and zombies" or 
      "with zombies" to the ends of every sentence. 

Should there be silver bullets
       and machetes in those bags too? If he

were alive, my father would probably throw in
       rosaries and a flask of holy water, brought back

from Vatican City by a wealthy cousin who traveled
       the world and fathered a child in just about every

port. The stories are that his wife attempted 
        to sprinkle some of that sacred water 

on the philanderer's dick while he slept, 
        perhaps hoping either that he would reform,

or that she'd cause equipment malfunction. 
       How naively we take the world at face value.

Three days' worth of water, a week's worth
       of first aid supplies. water disinfectant;

lightweight blanket, flashlight and batteries.
      Wet wipes, dry or rehydratable food. What luck 

to get out with only the clothes on one's back, with not 
       a rip on the surface of skin. How astonishing to see

all that made up a life float away, then watch scavengers
       collecting all that the dead won't need anyway. 

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