Blast Center

I see the parcel drifting

Lazily against the burning sky.

The whites of the parachute

Contrasting with the purples and reds 

And yellows of the sunset.

Death, it seems, will ride in not

On a stallion, but like a hellish parade float:

Taking its sweet time.


I put down down my rake and search

For you. Your black hair flowing out

From under the sun hat I always tease

You about. Your back to me, delicate 

Shoulders taut and focus concentrated 

On the weeds choking your beloved orchids.

I touch your back, ask you to drop

Your spade and gather your familiar hands

Into mine. 


I never want to forget.


The parcel has dropped from view

And you look at me in that mix

Of puzzlement and mischief I fell for

All those years ago.  As the sky

Fills with thunderous noise and unnatural 

Light, I keep my eyes on you.


No, I never want to forget.


And as our world collapses around us

In a hail of earth and glass,

I pray you know you are l-