Ghazal for End Times, or, How to Stay Cozy in the Apocalypse
BY BROOK BHAGAT
Some will die, some will run and some will stay, cozy in the apocalypse.
There are ways to not feel guilty and stay cozy in the apocalypse.
When poison hurricanes thrash and spin and fire devils streak the sky red,
eat astronaut ice cream and pretend it’s a sunset to stay cozy in the apocalypse.
When the gold-horned monster summons red-brimmed zombies to storm the people’s house,
keep your children close. Hide them in the coat closet to stay cozy in the apocalypse.
When icemen prowl the neighborhoods in masks, spilling blood in the streets of the homeland,
curl up in your fleece pajamas and watch The Princess Bride to stay cozy in the apocalypse.
When mutant foxes breed in boxes and spread lies for the gold-horned monster,
take the blue pill and listen to the sweet whine of fox mews to stay cozy in the apocalypse.
When heat and medicine are for the rich, set the kettle on the living room campfire. Drink
raspberry leaf tea for pain, close your eyes, and dream of Xena to stay cozy in the apocalypse.
When they burn history books, defile classrooms, and call slavery a favor,
ask your aunt about the floorboard, the last copy of Beloved, to stay cozy in the apocalypse.
When they tattoo you subhuman for being he or she or they, use a secret prism
to flash rainbows. Your friends will give you shelter to stay cozy in the apocalypse.
When robot overlords write the books, remember the prophets’ words on the subway walls.
Use the blood of the goddess to write and paint to stay cozy in the apocalypse.
When they zip tie Ariana and throw her in a van, at least call her mother later
to find the boy under the bed who had to stay, cozy in the apocalypse.
When they disappear the girls for singing from the river to the sea and ceasefires
still kill children, tie your mother’s keffiyeh tight to stay cozy in the apocalypse.
When they try to force your sister to birth the spawn of demons, give her the pills
from the before times, sewn in your red cloak, to stay cozy in the apocalypse.
When the gold-horned monster and other pedophiles rape, kill, and laugh in the faces
of survivors, channel the heat of your grandmother’s rage to stay cozy in the apocalypse.
When your daughters’ eyes are on you, cross the line and come to the gathering.
Sit in the circle and feel what it means to be human to stay cozy in the apocalypse.
Then, keep your heart out of the safe. Put on your softest, strongest body. Stand up
with us and scream the truth out loud: there is no way to stay cozy in the apocalypse.
Brook Bhagat (she/her) is the Pushcart-nominated author of Only Flying and Exodus with Red Delicious, forthcoming in December from Unsolicited Press. Her work has won contests and appeared in Monkeybicycle, Empty Mirror, Soundings East, and elsewhere. She is a founding editor of Blue Planet Journal and an English professor at PPSC.
