When the bombs come, we’ll be happy ghosts
hiding from the giant spiders, our bodies no longer

aching from bad wiring, that thing we thought
was a good idea that one time and took months

to recover from. When the world becomes translucent
glass, outshining the jealous stars, and we finally feel 

how substantial shadows are from the inside out,
dogs will bark at the smell of our souls, cats will beg 

us for food our thumbs can no longer open. We’ll fade
in the light and deepen under the moon, who will now 

know our true names but still won’t take our calls.
We’ll no longer have hands to hold, my smoke entwined 

in your smoke, nothing left but our curiosity. When
the world dies behind us, I’ll remember the taste 

of your mouth when you kiss me, the warmth
of your body held in my arms after long absence, 

the sound of your laugh when you hear me mispronounce
words I’ve only read, the smell of your hair when 

my face presses close, your eyes so bright when you’re in love
with the world they remind me of what it is to be alive. 

Raised on a rice and catfish farm in Eastern Arkansas, CL Bledsoe is the author of more than thirty books, including the poetry collections Riceland, The Bottle Episode, and his newest, Driving Around, Looking in Other People’s Windows, as well as his latest novels Goodbye, Mr. Lonely and The Saviors. Bledsoe lives in Northern Virginia with his daughter.