Issue > Poetry
Dane Ritter

Dane Ritter

Dane Ritter was born and raised in Lexington, Kentucky. He is currently a senior at Transylvania University pursuing a degree in English. He will attend the University of Kentucky in Fall 2018 for an MFA in Creative Writing.

Rule Too

               —after “Rule” by Ryan Vine   


There were palm trees yes
alight and burning to the ground

as we watched from the seat of
my 1940s Ford Coupe

the leather sweating like us
from the sweltering heat

of the midday sun. Your eyes
read why and who did this

breaking the silence as golden
glittering palms rained fire upon

the black hood outside our
glass fishtank windshield. You

broke it. And there is no
answer just the cold unforgiving

tension of a slow death under
the intense desert sun

withering the green love
of passion in an apocalypse

wondering who will give in first
and why. The sun? Or the

congo maybe where nothing
grows anymore and the solstice

is even further away dimming
under the ash-night sky.

What good is a car during
the apocalypse? Just run

like hell under that OJ sun
hold the pulp in the

golden burning hour
evening music whose rays

incinerate. I hold the charred
palm between blistering

fingers shedding snake skin
biting tails forever, and ever

Amen.

And my green eyes meet
your cold grey ones

like this is the big one
like cross your heart

like I was talking a pledge.
The gas

you say. How hard
can you hit it?

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