and it's dark when it's light
and the smooth cuts the razor
the leak of the faucet is eternal
dogs barking against the possibility:
it is truly horrible to be alive if you'
think about it, then you see caravans behind the
hearse
and that's hardly gladdening
either
when the grace is gone from the dance
and the armpits no longer stink
when the dick can't piss
when the cunt can't cunt
when your hair is combed for the last time
and the fear of the IRS is gone
when the shoelace is not needed
when there is no itch behind the ear
as the golden fox runs against the shrinking
fields:
our bones laugh against the
odds: death has not
earned us.

© Frank Silvanski