Thank you for participating in the end of the world. Your input helps us improve future catastrophes. Please complete the following fields to the best of your remaining ability.
1. How satisfied were you with your overall experience?
☐ Very satisfied—watched the horizon go orange; finally, something honest.
☐ Satisfied. This is fine.
☐ Dissatisfied.
☐ Very dissatisfied; expected more closure, less weather.
2. How would you rate the apocalypse’s cleanliness?
☐ 5/10 — Could’ve used more fire.
☐ 3/10 — Too many flies.
☐ 0/10 — Smelled like the factory the week it burned.
☐ 10/10 — aesthetic of collapse; a sky lacquered with gray clouds of closure.
3. Did you feel seen, heard, or properly obliterated?
☐ All of the above.
☐ None of the above.
☐ I called customer service—they put me on hold until the trees were gone.
(Hold music: Don’t Stop Believin’, slower, sadder, wetter, like a boot dragging through mud.)
4. How did the apocalypse compare to your childhood home?
☐ Fewer ghosts.
☐ Better insulation.
☐ Same smell—wet dust, mouse nests, rot, sweet and cloying.
☐ Easier to breathe afterward.
5. How would you rate communication during the event?
☐ The emergency alerts were some of my favorite poems.
☐ The powerlines hummed hymns, just like grandpa.
☐ The sky kept trying to explain itself in lightning and hail.
☐ I hung up before it finished the national anthem in reverse.
6. Did you experience any side effects?
☐ Metallic taste in the mouth.
☐ Sudden clarity.
☐ Remembering everyone I’ve ever loved at once—their voices layered like a lyrebird’s song.
☐ A faint ringing, like the ghosts of the city at night, drunk and singing.
7. Short Answer:
What color was the end, really?
How long did it take before you stopped calling it beautiful?
8. How accessible was the apocalypse for marginalized users?
☐ Ramps into ruin were steep.
☐ Shelter signs misspelled salvation.
☐ Queer folks built the last safehouse from tinfoil and prayer.
☐ Everyone else kept knocking.
9. How would you describe the overall mood?
☐ Like the pause after a punchline.
☐ Like the hum before the lights cut out.
☐ Like everyone realizing they’re still here.
☐ Other: .....................................................
10. What features did you appreciate most?
☐ The free sunsets, blooming over soft ruin.
☐ The sudden honesty in everyone’s faces.
☐ The way strangers started holding hands like scaffolding.
☐ The silence that came after—clean, absolute, unbranded.
11. Short Answer:
Who did you think of first when the sirens began?
What did you save?
What did you mean to burn, but didn’t?
12. Would you recommend this apocalypse to others?
☐ Already did.
☐ Everyone’s booked.
☐ I don’t have those anymore.
☐ Please unsubscribe me from this mercy.
13. Did the sirens harmonize with your ribs?
☐ Yes ☐ No
☐ They tuned themselves to my pulse.
14. We showed a video of a tomato plant splitting the concrete. Voiceover asked: God, even now? Even still?
Would survive again?
☐ Yes ☐ No ☐ Unsure ☐ Already do.
Signature (if applicable): ___________________________
Date of completion: ____ / ____ / whenever the light returned
Omnia Sol, Krak
This poem originally appeared in Locust Review 13 (Winter 2025/2026)