soon, i will be falling off the edge of the universe
without you knowing.
                                     the way i’m not aware the month
                                     is ending & there’s no wine in the 
refrigerator—something 
warm to wrap hands & call mine. 
                                    outside, the magpies sing & dance
                                    on the flowers. the dogs wagging 
their tails near my feet, but 
they will miss me, & lose me to
                                       someone they will still lose to 
                                       someone they will still lose. 
not me choking the air out of
my nostrils, but time is tired of 
                                           returning to the monopoly of
                                            rise & fall of the sun. 
yet, instability rises like mountains.
inform the doctor in vain he acupunctures
                                             my diverticulum. or how many
                                              cans of amphetamine stops
rupturing? as i drop the work,
the stress, the pains & everything 
                                                here comes, ending.
                                                except those to soil 
their buttocks from the long
bench to the dust with elegy .