by Kenneth Pobo
I used to live in Atlantis.
We’d watch TV, mow the yard,
and make peanutbutter sandwiches.
Sometimes we were alive.
Usually it was just inhale, exhale.
Then stop.
We considered ourselves exceptional.
How many other continents
had shows where contestants
giggled about sex?
When the water wall came
and we were busy clapping
for whoever won a car that day,
we said nothing will hurt us.
We’re forever.
Even when waves covered our lips
and we screamed for help,
we clung to a life preserver of beliefs.
Surely God would save us.
Everyone would hug and tomorrow
would rattle the rafters.
We are now myth. Read about us,
Kenneth Pobo has a new book out from Duck Lake Books called Dindi Expecting Snow. His work is forthcoming in: North Dakota Quarterly, Switchback, Paris Lit Up, and elsewhere. He and his husband enjoy watching birds from their porch. He teaches English and creative writing at Widener University in Pennsylvania. On Twitter @KenPobo.
