Now

by Dara Mac Carthaigh--

We who have seen the future,

have seen gold there,

and other passing elements 

that won’t last so long.

Particular people 

who won’t last so long.

Our social setup, collapsing, 

by its own weight.

Technological gutting

of life everywhere.

We have seen the future,

the faces,

that young man,

that shock of curly hair,

that cute child walking.

All relying still 

on gutting mountains, 

and that which is 

already taken 

now.

We see them,

and the future sunsets

that set daily 

regardless.