Red

The sweat drops from my breasts, my skin
sleek with hot rain.
The ground is dry, like brittle
bone. Few things left are green,
but most of it all has
gone into the wind.

They say it will be deadly cold soon-a dark
as night winter that will stay.
My few cans, sparingly arranged......
applesauce, carrots, corn, green beans.

The water is deep gray with soot
as its companion to thirst, but I must
drink.
My hair, falling out, eyes shrunk into dark hollows
and deep, purple-black bruises are my tattoos.

Late at night, I lay in darkness and know
that the world is gone, minus a few.
Soon, we too, will follow, leaving words in
letters and journals that will never be said.
If only the button that was pushed,
wasn't so red (read).