Apocalypse

Nothing like a fresh jewel; adorn me now
defend me later.

After the war we all went around trading our
fresh jewels. Anything could be a jewel
to the right person.

I remember it like it was twenty years ago,
the grime of coins dissolving, we laughed
"all is lost all is lost!" we laughed all night

Darling Matthew and I stockpiled, we knew
so did most people we knew
so an economy of objects started up
in no time.

People loved the jewels with stories
at least two layers of belongings, a death
or anniversary a little girl most secretly beloved
that sort of thing

I am the sort of historian who doesn't deal
in dates or names so I became a liar
though the jewels I swear were real and
so was I and Darling Matthew too and all
the stuff we passed between us