Exit Music
Nov 5 · 1 min read

In the long run,
the long urn’s shadow
still peels across
that lake we’re born
to steep in, deep as graves
into our navel, streaming
through a lifetime
clad in fragile vows,
umbilical connections
howling, all the more
the further down we seem
to reach, until we melt
between those numbers
we conceive as marking when
we grazed our entrance,
waiting for the second
we embark, with one last song
our odd looms spin,
like exit music playing
us offstage, beyond
the only…


