Stock Futures

There’s interference in the sky,
the shadows of war angels passing
over suburban Connecticut.

In Springfield, Mass five-and-dime
prophets collect gasoline in coffee tins,
burning the hulls of junkyard relics.

New York, old ladies on sunlight busses
clutch Klonopin purses,
brace themselves for the heavenly blast.

Endless spring, crocuses
blooming in short cycles, baby toads
emerging from the makeshift breeding
grounds of construction sites,
tiny brown bodies not making
it to next Sunday. 

Only the godhead witnesses
the cities as they empty
themselves of bodies, fill
with light.


Sarah Ruth Jacobs grew up in Bangor, Maine and currently lives in Queens, New York.  Her writing has appeared or is forthcoming in The Brooklyn Rail,The Mississippi Review, MiPOesias, Cipher, and Juked.com <http://juked.com/> .  She works as the Assistant Graduate Poetry Coordinator at the New School.