It was

the uncanny distribution of quakes 
all over the globe,  some deadlier than
others— Did the tortoise in the center 
of the earth finally tire of shouldering 
our burdens and maybe step away from 
the pillar that holds everything in place? 
Yesterday, towers stood like gleaming 
sheaths beneath the broiling sun as though 
they would withstand  every form of violence. 
Yesterday, a sinkhole yawned open at the exit 
from the freeway. Days bare their teeth and 
gums. The wind smears pastes of insect
bodies on glass. I am trying not to think
of these as plagues pouring out of the sky.