We’re nearing the end, but there are no hard feelings. All my feelings are soft; they float past me like tendrils of blue and pale gray smoke, swirling through the air around my feet like water in a shallow stream.
Each colored curl carries a small memory: a smile across a kitchen counter top, a whispered name, a snort of laughter, a reluctant hand pulling me to a stop.
They first appeared during my last week — the first time I did everything for the last time — pulsing around the washing machine while I did my last load of…
Earth is wearing her favorite blue coat;
Swaddled in shimmering oxygen,
The latest intergalactic fashion.
But, her wrap wears thinner with each gay twirl.
Threadbare holes in her pockets grow larger;
Blue fades ’til her soft tunic is torn; small
Pieces float towards heavenly neighbors, who lost
Their wrappings long before hers had been knit.
Warmth — glowing blue in endless black — flickers;
Earth clutches her best blue frock tight, twirling.