Poem Thirty: Poem Of Last Lines: Afterlife
Poem of Last Lines: Afterlife
*
Look at me urgent,
melodic, hypnotist.
Erase everything.
Call me by my name.
Dear wilderness,
without you
I am snow.
A house made of rising water
before it floods the lungs.
Two hands
become one.
The way you let go,
I let go too.
Night birds sing
all night long.
Your mind
is a river.
We are the last
two lines.
Until the world
enters your mouth.
Everything that reaches for you,
everything that carries the light.
The world, the size
of a hand closing around an apple.
It’s hard to hold on
to the language of birds
come morning.
Can we walk on water?
A looking glass,
ritual object,
mirror, transmission,
you.
You slip under.
The water dreams you.
Shake leaves into essence,
a listening.
A lifeboat,
a song.
Is there still time
to build an ark?
Their bodies press
into flowers.
Put your hands
over your ears.
Who will remember
the names of trees?
You must change
your life.
Who will remember
the names of trees?
How big are you
compared to the moon?
You break open
a brush of light
across the purple
mountain.
Who will be the water
who lifts the boat?
We are the black ribboned song
of Orpheus descending,
the ascent all depends
on how you hear it.
*