On the Monday before the End,
the air in Cleveland was thick and muggy and
Children walked down the street in shorts and t-shirts and
adults toiled away at this job or another.

On the Monday before the End,
A factory worker in Mississauga noticed his hairline was receding and
a mother cried after her son let slip “bitch”;
she thought of ways to punish him after.

On the Monday before the End,
I thought about you and hoped you were doing alright,
but resolved not to reach out, not to
let you back in, because
I didn’t know it was the Monday before the End,
None of us did,
None of us ever know.