Poem Thirty: Poem Of Last Lines: Afterlife

Poem of Last Lines: Afterlife

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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.

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