[Issue 1 / May 2012]
NO DEMONS WILL BE RISEN MORE SLOWLY by Tamara Kaye Sellman
than those of the finches, the trout, the many-footed worms
tilling the Underneath. And that is assuming the shadows
of the pure will come to proximity in the days at the End.
Innocence is perfection even in the sharpest night, where
silence and softness are no longer traitors. The day the earth
begins to shake relentlessly, casting us off like dander, she
will yet leave the fish to surf in creek beds newly flooded
with water, the birds to buffet invisible currents the shapes
of scythes without falling, the millipedes to stop, then begin
again, unflapped and persevering, leaving humanity to face
the glaring inevitability of a world in balance without us.
(for Alan Weisman)