I'm rationing food like a Mormon
at home in my basement room.
Tin pails of flour, beans and rice
and water in plastic blue barrels.
I've got a good woodstove, airtight,
with skids piled up in the drive.
And cords and cords of hardwood
stacked neatly behind the barn,
against the day the power fails
and there's no time for getaways.
Ten propane tanks locked in the shed
and two new barbeques,
and kerosene lamps for every
room in the house.
But I am not sharing with you.
The many will perish,
the survivors are few
and I am just doing
what I must do.