The radio says take it seriously.
The sky says nothing, which is worse.
We fill the tub. We charge the things.
We put the papers in the bag by the door,
which is a sentence my grandmother
would have understood in another language.
Then we sit. Then the light goes green.
Then whatever is coming comes,
and we are as ready as people get,
which is not very, and is enough.
This a fake test poem created by First Verse - it will be deleted at launch
