I don’t want to go like this.
When I see my loved ones' fluids leak
like the garden's rotting fruit.
What misery in that slow retreat.
I pray for speed, for quick.
My mass, my final moment
freed freed freed
in a single sudden trick
Saturday, October 13, 2018
Blue, cobalt bay with your secret bottom,
I stand before you in the golden hay,
upright and awed,
looking without thought, without choice,
with only one this: love
at your blue dome,
at the clean gurgle of your perfect
every part of me in the motion
of wind and I gulping light of gold
and feeling sorrows sinking
all of me bowing
to that healing unknown.