no planet b

“There is no planet B,” They say,

one scorching afternoon,

on the television.

“Fake news,”

Your partner says.

“Don’t put the TV on.”

You turn the television off.


There is ruin around you.

The sky clouds with toxicity

and the land with plastic.

The only birdsong left

is the incessant cawing of the crows.

They will live through everything.

You will not.


You are not a cockroach.

You will not survive if temperatures plummet

or if your head is chopped off.

You are not a tardigrade.

You will not live

if your atmosphere collapses on you.

You are not forever.


The human is the most destructive,

most pollutive

most greedy

most lustful


The human will take until there is little left,

then take more,

to fill its pockets.

The human lives carefree

until She decides

it has had enough.

The human will learn

There is no Planet B.


“Welcome to the end of times,” They say,

on a muggy, flooded day,

on the television.

“Fake news,”

You tell your partner.

“Don’t put the TV on.”

You turn the television off.