by Brett Rutherford
The
being who lives
behind the stars
hates only one thing:
stupidity.
Poems, work in progress, short reviews and random thoughts from an eccentric neoRomantic.
by Brett Rutherford
1
Returning
to that world
the Engineer found
all things a mess.
The fittest had not
survived and prospered.
Rather,
the creeping things
had prevailed.
2
Where was it,
that Beautiful One?
No matter: all went
into the crucible.
He
lit a match.
Warming the planet
sped up the process.
3
Too
bad about the cats.
Most places, they
were the ones worth keeping.
He
wondered
if there was a any painless way
to be eaten, as if the indignity
of being devoured
by vermin were not enough.
4
When
all was poured
onto a great platter,
out of all those millions
only one species remained.
Teeth
like piranha,
an ovoid fish
striped many-hued
like a bright coleus.
Lonely,
untouched,
untouchable,
it would be lord of the lake
ringed by the skeletons
of those it had devoured.
5
Too
late it was
when he returned.
The
Perfect One
having awaited
patiently,
was dead.