We  watch the night sky for signs 
of a change in the weather, 
the gods whisper, do you not know 
what’s coming? 

A seismic unease bisects the belly of this 
beast of a country, she rumbles, 
can you feel it? 

Arriving like the light from a distant star, 
its source long forgotton, 
the earth never sleeps but she is 
dreaming herself anew,

Alea iacta est.

I found a map of ancient Palestine, 
the pastel tint of Judea and Galilee, 
we knew it once until we didn’t, 
will speak of it only after it’s gone, 
name it Atlantis, call it a figment, 
swear (once again) we never saw it 
coming.