For the Time Being
I was folding my laundry
when the bad news came.
When the black chasm opened before me,
I was warming tea. Making my bed.
We try to dodge the dark gorges
that suddenly appear. Side-step the slits,
just wide enough to have us.
This is our brawl with the world.
For now, I slog around the edges of them,
clothes flecked with mud and muck,
The sludge sucking at my shoes.
The earth opens her dirt-lined fissures,
taking back what is hers.
Everything is hers.