allow me to humiliate myself;
it is ultimately strength,
though it appears to be
a long wrought torture:
car crash,
bus crash,
train crash,
cruise ship crash,
parachute that doesn't open,
lips that don't kiss,
fires at a school,
mass murders,
targeted assassinations,
cities destroyed in earthquakes,
bombs falling on unsuspecting children,
hands that don't hold,
mountains that slide away,
melting antarctic ice shelf,
the slaughter of nature:
a body un-caressable.
i can not help
but to submit to such momentous love,
worthy of ceremony each second.
such endings are always
more beautiful than what they've ended -
replacing something for nothing
great magic trick, great question of science,
but the end is always there,
sleeping next to us, lips so close you could have kissed them
before the end,
now flowers bloom, eyes dart
now bombs fall and rooms shake
now ends. i would kiss now's end,
gentle brush of despairing love
across those french country side lips
slipping into suburban urban renewal
into daisies breaking through sidewalks.
screaming at low volumes
