Death offends me the same way every time
not the canyon of its finish
not the screaming quiet
not the outfit of flesh left behind

it is the way it doesn’t cooperate with time
that conveyor belt
that keeps on shoveling minutes
into our mouths
even though it is clear
we deserve a pause
at least

a few weeks to wedge
inside the memories
before they melt

but the sun and moon
circle like scavengers
pressing us onward
into the future
where we must walk
against our will
without you.