Cistern for Our First Thoughts Toward Forever
sometimes i think about death.
mostly at night, in silence. yeah it’s cliché,
but you do it too, and also probably
everyone else. we remember death
and shake our heads like etch-a-sketches,
then go back to fantasies and grocery lists.
we all die. not much to think about.
no need to get freaked out on the
bathroom floor, we believe. not while
your cat climbs your shoulders and i
bleach your hair and we talk about
our broken skulls and coworkers.
you say you’d like immortality
if it had a “kill me” button built-in,
but i think we’d all be lucky to pass
before the great nosedive into
Robert Frost’s mangled version of fire,
or before we become immortal
creatures living in a digital paradise
of our own construction. this is me
quoting my ethics teacher. he also said
i really think you can save us all
from desire and hate and from
becoming as gods in a crystalline eden,
and maybe i can. don’t say that i’ve
disregarded hope. its just that i’m not
talking about living right now,
but how it’ll feel to wiggle free of it.
or i guess that it wiggles free of me.
in better times i’d hope for comfort,
for love and quiet at that infinite moment.
it’s ok times, so i imagine my deathbed
as the bed of a truck on doomsday,
the sky like a sun and today’s favorite song
blasting louder than the atom bomb.
at least I’d get to watch your atoms become
whatever your atoms will become:
wind and sunlight and space dust.
all the things we are made of but
animalistically blind to. so maybe
death will feel like dessert at the end of
a hard day. maybe when i lie awake
i should shake for other reasons,
imagine death as the expansion of
what light was kept in my life and think
yes. i’m such a lucky sack of stars.
(this poem is very inspired by Gabrielle Calvocorressi)
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