Geologic Doom
By William DoreskiPeterborough, New Hampshire Ashen silence molds itselfinto the shape of geese driftingon a gray lake. The angleof their wake is acute enoughto suggest they’ll get somewhere, despite their casual poise.Soon they disappear in a mistso fine we can hardly feel itsoak through and reveal our bones.The far shore has faded away. Maybe the planet has erodedso its rough edge approaches uswith threats we can’t understand.Maybe the lake is pouring intothe vacuum of absolute space. You tire of these uncertaintiesand claim we live by maps and chartsthat prove the geologic doomI fear can’t possibly happen.Geese can happen. Loons and…