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Before I knew what had happened, dearest
was raptured away,
and wouldn’t you know it, the remote
was still in his hands, and now
he’s taken all the cable with him

Our friends are still around, I guess, and I’ve nothing
but nice things to say about them but, really,
these were his friends, not mine. Far too feverish
with that faith of theirs for me to
feel an affinity for them and worse
they never even pick up the check

The gals from the office were recruited into
the legions of evil because that seemed rather
interesting, and challenging, and Lucifer just threw
better parties, going all out where
it really mattered—
catering, decorations, and whatnot

Mother has really made a name for herself, scrimmaging
the hordes of Hell for the Lord, but my Lord,
does she have to be so judgemental, ushering in
the Kingdom of Heaven shouldn’t make one
so sanctimonious

I could honestly use a drink
or two right now, or at least
some holy water, these demons
run their fork-tongues far too fiery for
my taste, and a splash of the
sacramental could do wonders for
their manners, but maybe that’s
what makes them such cunning
linguists

Perhaps, I shouldn’t date again just yet, though
I was told these incubi were dynamite in the sack, but
what about dearest, and what will I tell Mother, and
more importantly, who will keep that darn cat if
we call the whole thing off
without a prenup

If only I could inherit his assets, but our lawyer
says he’s technically not dead, far from it, in fact,
as the righteous have been granted eternal life and
that means I’ll have to keep working till
I retire or find me another man

Oh, I knew I should’ve listened to those feminists
on that talk show. If only they would
put on makeup, then I wouldn’t be in this
little mess, and maybe, just maybe, I would’ve
placed my name on the deed and claimed
the proceeds and finally vacationed
on an island somewhere when
fire and brimstone rained on
that nice little house of ours in the suburbs, but
I guess it doesn’t matter anyhow, since
the insurance company might put up a fight and claim
it was Force Majeure

at the very least, if I never hear from him again, I pray
he’d be a dear, and return the remote with one of those
angels, descending from the Heavens, an ophanim
would be best, those seraphim are rather
intense, though a cherub would work just fine, still, maybe,
that’s asking too much, but
I’ve just always wanted to see one, and I guess…
I really thought the End of the World would be
a bit more exciting than this



In addition to their work at Solarpunk Magazine as a poetry editor, and at Android Press as an editor, J.D. Harlock’s writing has been featured in Strange Horizons, New York University's Library of Arabic Literature, and the SFWA Blog. You can find them on TwitterThreads, and Instagram @JD_Harlock.
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19 Feb 2024

That was Father—a storm in a drought, a comet in the night. Acting first, thinking later, carried on not by foresight, but on luck’s slippery feet. And so we were not as surprised as we should have been when, one warm night in our tenth year on the mountain, Father showed us the flying machine.
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