End Game

It is going to be beautiful,
when the horizon collapses
in. When the stars
fall into the seas,
slither down the rivers-
oh the perpetuating fireflies.
Their hearts explode
as they steam
in the blackened Mississippi.


When the sea washes up
and hurls herself
to the coast,
kisses it angrily
and throws all its lust
into the thing.
When you put your back into-
love is beautiful.


So it will be grand
when the skies fall 
apart like broken
tapestries,
like spoiled riches.


Nothing will hurt
when the seas
learn their ways
to reckless abandonment
of their tidal passion.


It is going to 
be beautiful
at the end of
the earth.