I Imagine My Own Death Often
Your coffin lay in a patch of
moonlight at the back of the garden,
a moonless day, moonless
night. Moonless like an orphan,
a sky without a parent. Lying in no dark
listening to birds that you don't know
the names of. No one does.
Are they even there, if they don't
have a name?
Are you still there, even with a dead
body? A name's a name. A named
thing can never
be truly dead. You laugh when you
remember how I always cried
along to movies, even
the bad ones. Let me in if
I pray good. It's time to give to you,
give you something other
than my body
to try. I dare you
to try drinking time
and making love to it
as if it doesn't hurt like broken
bathroom tile.
I don't want you to be
a green mist--another time, a moment
where you met
me over and over
and I can't remember you.
There’s no now when you’ve
eaten time and then
is more now than either
of us will ever know. Take
comfort
in that, someone like
a priest might say. Take comfort
in absolutions not abstractions
like the moonlight of the full
moon that night
everything changed.
