they say the world is ending

Dad wakes me to close the window;
I reach forward out of sleep to bullets of cold night
beyond the screeching screen.
I fall back into the eventful heat, the long-awaited oblivion.
While I sleep, careless—carefree
The years’ weight drops with
heavy rain, a deadening battery
and, so
falls
the maple tree.
Through three-pointed leaves’ dappled shadows
I swim in buzzing summer
Naked-warm, I am suspended
A small, green fruit
Strung between the thick trunks.
Hammock, leaving diamonds:
A camouflage of lines.
And, so
Falls
The maple tree.
A fabric rends—a great gaping blackness of sound
Spinning swing
Laughing sickly dizzy spinning.
Then the fabric tears in
An instant of flying breathless dusk.
The first branch has fallen
On me.
And, so
Falls
The maple tree.