The End

The End

No one knows

what they will

sing at the

end.

I’ll most likely

need a drink

(Cheers, A!), but

since I

won’t know it,

I may not have

time to break open

a bottle I’ve

saved for the

end.

Or, maybe, it won’t

even be a song.

Maybe the time

will come and

there will be no

singing — maybe

it will just be the

pointed intention

of the buying

a sack

of rice and the

giving of it to

the community

pantry next

door.

Perhaps, there will be

a level of

astonishment

as things like

the sun

and the moon

and the sky

make one last

appearance

before saying

goodbye.

Or, maybe, I will

take your hand,

no actual singing,

just my heart

attempting a

note it has

never heard

before,

a color it has

never seen

before,

a poem escaping

from my fingers,

my mind,

my lips,

as the darkness

slips into

our ships,

there,

at the

end.

Image: Jeff Siepman of Unsplash

April 30, 2021

The last poem this

#NaPoWriMo2021 No. 30

For A

and after Mark Strand’s

The End

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/.../the-end-56d2306e43cbd