in the bunker

we prepare for collision
or rapture. what words do you use
to describe the coming extinction of milk?
i am leaving footprints 
as i go down. there will be 
trails of bird seed for monsters
to eat as they follow.
stock pile jars of god.
canned holy water. carving our names
in the dirt. tally marks.
my father used to spend
months in the basement where
he would teach the mice 
how to sing pslams. feeding them
bottle caps until they choked.
in the end we are all just throats
held up by wind. on the mountain,
no one would know we are here.
biting our finger nails down 
to skin. remembering when
we didn't know there were 
such things as missiles. 
instead, our hearts were stuffed
with pie tins & soup ladles.
i never intended to keep going.
always imagined being
one of the first to become 
a honeysuckle bush. instead,
here i am. counting lightning strikes
as they get closer & closer 
to my skull. in the bunker,
light is savour only in teaspoons.
i feed you one & you shiver
with delight. i ask you,
"what would you like to see
when we emerge?" you say,
"peanut butter." i say,
"a mirgration of butterflies
none of which are on fire."