This Coming Day Poem by David McLansky

I think it's clear
Our looming Fate
That the world will end
In spastic hate
That the world will warm.
That drought shall spread
That limbs be torn
Over loaves of bread;
That winds will slash
Across the plains
And turn to trash
Our wood house frames;
That our vaunted reason
Will prove too frail,
A one world season,
Where man will fail.
Our lack of vision
Coupled with denial
Will freeze decision,
And all things vile
Will pile up outside
Our medieval doors;
That bands will roam
A rapine hoard;
Evil shall reign
On eroded shores;
In our shattered cities'
Contempt will answer
Cries for pity.
Tears in vain;
The sky shall redden
As forests burn,
The earth turn leaden,
While tornados churn;
Smoke and storm
Will scorch the sky,
The huddled bands
Will starve and die.