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//behind; 3

i sit in my old crabapple tree

in my childhood yard.

my legs dangle

my hands hold a branch

i look around,

taking in the house and the cloudy sky that day

not expecting this small adventure of mine

to be my last.

i am sprinting now, panting and tired and breathless and weak-

im in an apocalyptic world now, this is what i grew to see.

this is new, and yet it isnt,

the shadows that chase me froth at the mouth,

but i

i can't go,

please, please not yet.

i cough up blood, the spatter of it on my hands

metallic and disgusting-

i find a ditch beside me,

leading to a slow running creek-

i don't have much of a choice, i don't have much of anything anymore,

and it is clear to me that as i roll down towards injury and freezing water,

that all that i worried about before

all the tears i spilt

before all of this, being here, now,

was so trivial and stupid.

i yearn for my backyard again,

i yearn to sit

in my old crabapple tree.