a familiar sense of doom

wake up, get out of bed
seem to notice a change
it doesn't know about us

fingers are trembling
the earthquake struck

something surprisingly large
turned northward and landward
a certain asymmetry to his real face

the gleam of interest
the world looks no different

finding it is a stroke of luck
clinging to the edge
should he lose his footing

a glimpse of a sun 
no sign showing, no seam

pages curled in on themselves
the names of the dead
cold wind came whistling down

every afternoon, downpours
the night before, nightmares

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