Everything is strange Keep calm This is just the end of things Remember the smell of stale bread Toasted until almost burnt This is our body An extemporary sacrament Subluminary in substantiation Transient, but satisfactory As another sip of tea Out the window Above the swamp There is a blue sky fat with buttered scones Around your heels Stagnant water And the drone of dragonfly wings Call life extinct A breath, a residue Your woodsmoke heart Maybe earthquakes make alarms The whistles of trains hauling rumbling cattle cars Warn sharply of collision Here the benches are hard There is gentle laughter As dogs sing Have some jam and cream Sweet, isn’t it?
