Alien Flyover
On hearing that UFOs may be real
The UFOs check in, check out
upon our senseless, bloody rout —
the wars and strip mines, fire and drought.
Do aliens view with disdain
the overspreading human stain?
Our history’s heedless, speeding train?
Perhaps they’re laughing, laying odds
on our demise, we tin-pot gods
who live and die upon our frauds.
Why would they want to disembark?
They’ll wait until the final spark,
the whole world empty, clean and stark.
Lisa Barnett’s poems have appeared in Blue Unicorn, The Hudson Review, New Verse Review, Poetry, Snakeskin; the anthologies Sonnets:150 Contemporary Sonnets (The University of Evansville Press) and Extreme Sonnets (Rhizome Press); and elsewhere. She lives outside Philadelphia with her husband.
Pulsebeat Poetry Journal 