Poems for an Apocalypse by Nicolette Daskalakis | poetry | #thesideshow

the new world

 

 

I dreamt the apocalypse came
and only IKEA instruction manuals survived.

The new cockroach world communicated
via hieroglyphs of furniture assembly and singular Swedish words.

 

 

single shot

 

 

You stopped going to AA
because the guy next to you kept trying to hold your hand
and the last thing you need in your life
is someone three weeks sober that wants to unbutton your blouse.

 

 

thank God for office supplies

 

 

You worry about things
like cities collapsing,
of office buildings toppling
and file folders flying
releasing every important
classified
confidential document
ever printed about you,
of desk lamps hurling out of windows
decapitating innocent passersby
fluorescent light bulbs fixing glass into your eyes
blinding you before you can see
the computer wire sparklers and post-it note explosions.

 

This day will come
you tell me,
this day will come
and only the water coolers will be able to extinguish the flames.
We’ll be removing rubble with paperweights
and letter opener
picking out pencil shards with staple removers
and wrapping our paper wounds in scotch tape
thank God
you mumble,
thank God for office supplies.

 

 

my dreams would never win a Pulitzer

 

 

In my dreams it always takes a lot of effort to fly
and I’ve never fucked a tiger, or actually any sort of zoo animal.

My dreams are usually pretty blurry
and I have to squint a lot
to see if there’s anything worth while to write down when I wake up.

I’m convinced it must be a metaphor for something.
I just haven’t figured out what.

 

 

 

formal request

 

 

They’d like to play an opera
on the intercom system.

 

 

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About the Author:

Nicolette Daskalakis is an award-winning filmmaker, poet, and multi-media artist based in Los Angeles. She is the author of “because you’re now banging a French girl” and “All The Boys I Never Kissed.” She probably wants to smash face with you.
You can find her at www.nicolettedaskalakis.com.