The last place the candle
Goes out is in my mouth.
Not everyone's last words
Are anything like words
At all. Supposedly
The billionaire who made
So much of our current
Cyborg lives possible,
A year ago, in awe,
Died gasping "Oh wow! Oh
Wow!" I'm willing to bet
His last words were, "ow, ow!"
Still, deep in the forest
Tonight, knowing I won't
Get out of myself soon,
I'm willing to gamble
That, as the forest dies
And burns down, twig and root,
The last thing I'll manage
Will be some foolishness,
Less than prayer, more than "ow!"
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