Wait's News

Umbratilious, atrabilious,
The only one who ever was
Sits in the sun of perfection
Waiting for all the worlds to end.

There's a newsstand on the corner
Where a handful of memories
Accrued, but there is no newsstand,
Only the memories accrued.

Were it not for the shame, the end
Would approach humbly and be glad.
Those within these worlds who manage
To perish of nobility,

The patient patient whose illness
Cannot be down to behavior,
The warrior in a righteous cause,
The impossibly elderly

Slip into radiant shadows,
Their good, sweet tergiversation
Inevitable as the one
From one to zero and below,

And as inscrutable, as true.
For the rest, the tabloids wait us,
The wagging tongues of the bereaved,
The evil flowers of our minds,

Petals and sepals limp, lolling,
Nothing like the glad incoming
Of worlds that surround the garden
Of good and gone. One could rest here.

The descent should be as joyful
For the wicked one attempting
Heaven and just short of heaven.
One loves this world that does not care.