The Disaster

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THE DISASTER

We will gather there, then, 

on the fenced hill reserved


for those of us who knew, who spent

what little time was left shoring up 


what we were pretty sure about 

until it plasticized into the membership 


card we carry now on our hips,

beeping through the gate 


to make the trip up the hill

where we will pass around 


a charcuterie board of facts and relish

the view from such a height, nibbling


around the edges until the cheese 

tower’s collapse, the little olives 


so meticulously tooth-picked 

at the top plunking around our feet. 

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