by Adrian Cole
Who will write the final novel?
What will the last poem convey?
Over a dim light on ripped pages,
What will be humanity’s last words?
If I,
A man of ill gotten luxuries,
Found my days counted.
Will I tell the last story
By firelight as the world falls down?
Around the ears and on our tongues
We all know what we want our last words to be.
Hers were “You should’ve been there.” but also “Have a good day at school.”.
Hers I can’t remember though she pulled me close to the bed.
Whispered them into my ear before I was told go home.
Around the ears and on our tongues
We all know what we want our last words to be.
Thrilling things, spiteful remarks, last I loves, and muted acceptances.
But somewhere a clock strikes.
A counter starts.
There’s a race to be the last one writing
The last line.
They all must write their epics.
Knowing glory,
We forget the impermanence of pages.