after Andrew Marvell
Had we but world enough, and time,
this coyness, Cindy, were no crime.
But life is nasty, brutal, short,
and wanton gods kill us for sport.
The doomsday clock is ticking down;
a missile’s aimed right at your town.
You may, the recent tabloids say,
by accident most any day
be poisoned by a mutant toad.
The sun might nova and explode;
a falling safe could crush your head.
See what I mean? You’re good as dead.
You’re quickly running out of luck.
We’d better hurry up and fuck.
Richard Meyer, a former English and humanities teacher, lives in the home his father built in Mankato, a city at the bend of the Minnesota River. His poems have appeared in various publications, including Able Muse, The Raintown Review, Measure, Alabama Literary Review, Light, and The Evansville Review. His poem “Fieldstone” was selected as the winner of the 2012 Robert Frost Farm Prize, and he was awarded the 2014 String Poet Prize for his poem “The Autumn Way.”