Everything

By Rebekah Barnes 

If a great and terrible disaster comes, 
        the no smoking signs will guide us.
              I will practice trimming my bonsai,
                    while the others prepare old poems
                           for death. 
There will be thyme, 
            for remembrance, savory sage and 
                rosemary for the days of singing.
Women will remember all-girls choirs
             and the story after: the sound of 
                    fifty or so girls with tiny chocolate chips
                           stuck between the teeth.
We will remember parties with strangers,
                  praying the cigarette will burn faster
	        but the only thing burning was 
		ourselves.
The fields will hold our tea leaves
                the growing and dumped out. 
                     Everything else will be made from 
                           plastic and we will learn to like the taste.
On the other hand,
                prepare the old wind	 
                     tunnel for rosemary death.		
                          Thank you, mom. If you have to listen, 
                               you will close the door
                                            after one collection. 
I pray that the end will flare up sooner,
                 and put a small chocolate chip between my teeth