an accident, you think?
or malevolent design
it's how we were meant to fall apart,
and how we were meant to be perfect
but only in the past - when
we couldn't quite see it
This is to get us ready for heaven.
this loose skin, mottled and blotched
this long-wisped fuzz of what hair we have left
the gauzed-over glaze of memory, milky
and milkier, like albumen
soft-boiled by years on years,
- it is all to get us ready for heaven.
So that when we die, we cry out
in relief, like tears - so clearly now
I see! So firm and taut
is my newborn soul!
my mind is mine, again, and
I am whole,
am home. Again, and
But those who die young,
don't get it.
same way. Those
who die young, they