by Sarah O’Malley Graham

If tomorrow our sky is no longer blue
I will tell you it is raining.
Tell you this
is the onion.

If we wake up from azure
if we wake up to grass, to peach, to flamingo or sand
I will tell you it is raining.
That this is how we celebrate the end of the world.

This is how we enjoy a life hung upside-down.
That sometimes pollution gifts you 
the most glorious sunrise;
this is the wind that bites our necks.

Did we learn from the earthquake?
Did we learn from our scabbed knees?
I will tell you it is raining,
like it was the day the cyclone
ran down our staircase
& I laughed
        & I laughed
            & I laughed.

If tomorrow our sky is yellow—
this 
is the onion,
this is the wind that bites our necks,
that I chopped even as I couldn’t see,
that I searched for even as it cut through me.

& do you remember us eating the ceviche together,
& do you remember the glint of the ocean through that howl?
I had a crush on a boy & I told him the sky looked like piss
    (& it did)

If tomorrow our sky is no longer blue,
if everything we know to be true
is upended overnight,
I will tell you it is raining.
& on cold Texas nights
when lightning strikes
I hold my arms open,
as if to hug the welkin
& I laugh
        & I laugh
            & I laugh.

This is how we celebrate the end of the world.

Sarah O’Malley Graham | @sorchanimhaille 
Sarah O’Malley Graham was born in Singapore, but she now spends most of her time in the United States, where she is studying Radio-Television-Film at the University of Texas at Austin. She has lived in Australia, Oman, Chile, and Indonesia, amongst other places. When she’s not studying she likes eating shawarma and convincing cows to lick her hand (but not at the same time).