After the Disaster

the tools came in today
but they might not help us
the manuals came in today
but we don't use metric
the lake has receded
and the vultures have had their fill
the flowers bloom at sunrise
and the man is back at the till
but all may not be well here
and there is a possibility we'll get it wrong
our daughters' dreams were nightmares
they can't remove the smell from their nostrils
the sky is filled with the poison
the destruction of the machine has wrought
and we poke at the dirt, observing the soot
some things cannot be undone
in the fire all the labels peeled off
none remain to say what is what
none can decipher the clings and the clangs
the machine may move but it no longer functions
and thoughts turn in the wheels
all intention and talk is bluster
we relied and we worked and that is what we were
now we are only the motions
names already fading
as the dust settles
after the disaster