Harping On

-We're on the brink of a nuclear apocalypse.

-Stop harping on about it.

So she tries. Hides her phone screen
whenever she gets those glaring news updates.
Moves the hoarded tins of beans and soup
out of the pantry and into the wardrobe,
under the jackets she can't quite throw away,
but knows soon will be turned to dust.

-Today, the US president met with the leader of...

-See, you were fretting about nothing.

She chats online with survivalists,
using an incognito browser window.
Some of them are quite funny people, really.
They trade in old fashioned apocalypse films
and which knife would serve you best against zombies
(she's not sure zombies are a real threat, but she keeps quiet).

-If you'd only take precautions.

-I can't listen to this bullshit anymore.

He leaves. He doesn't even take a gas mask for the road.
The news blares out 24/7 now:
rolling forward towards doomsday.
Eventually, she packs up, switches off the TV,
and moves into a bunker with her new friends.
When the bomb hits, she whispers to herself:

Harping On

-He'll be regretting it now.

-...