Apocalypse: Nevada

The fish all went bellyup in the lake—    the surface lit up    with their silver legion.

The belly of the boat went thwap, thwap, thwapagainst their mouths and spines.

The rudder carved a tributaryof blood behind us—

    painted the lake    like a laceration—

and we were singular like a bad cell.

We were the hunger that openedthe earth’s entrails, sang hymns—    fishers of men.

We beached the boat, leftthe wide-eyes to gawk and rotbeneath the swollen sun.