Witness

We woke to witness the second dawn
after the collapse of the moon
and felt the grit beneath our tongues
of all that had once been.

We collected up each scattered part
in chunks and pebbles and dust
recognizing each fragment as grains of self
only the dregs that remain.

We knew the earth would realign
no less stable underfoot
but seasonless, no turning tide
and days raised like blisters on the palm.

We few survivors of the second day
after the sky fell down
must scratch our story on broken walls
and go to ground in early graves.