“If This Was My Last Poem”

If this was my last poem,

I would run through

Fields of thought,

Pacing desperately

To compose

A symphony of words.

If this was my last poem,

I would say au revoir

To my leather jacket and Lumberjane comics,

Say adios to my Epson Les Paul

As I strum the chords,

And my sanity

For an hour

To stare

At the freckles

And the crevices

Of your face

To memorize

The beautiful masterpiece

I will only be able to remember

As I am buried six feet under.

If this was my last poem,

I would tame myself

of the rock and roll lifestyle,

snort my last white line,

Thinking it was nothing less

Than divine.

If this was my last poem,

I’d write my last words,

The ink dribbling

And wet

From constant revisions

And various edits.

If this was my last poem,

I would scour the world’s libraries

And read through all the texts

I never thought I could read,

And be able to interpret Judith Butler’s

Thoughts on gender

And have full conversations

As we lay against the soil,

Our bodies meshed in blankets

& Looking up into the stars

Waiting for Destiny’s course

To swallow me whole.

If this was my last poem,

I would declare

Each and every word Yours

Until our bodies

Disintegrate into soil,

Words into carbon dioxide,

Our love into an idea,

A concept that melts

Along the pavement.

I would dedicate

It all to you,

My one true love.