Won’t be lit up
with LED lights
after civil twilight dies
another daily death. Tomorrow’s
reincarnation won’t be
so famous if Crash
has his way. And we all do
when we speak
the repurposed truth
at the mouth
of some river
or bottom of a canyon
no one remembered
to name.
Some words open
too wide to be
swallowed without
choking. I’ve
choked enough to last
into my next
life. It could happen—but
probably not
to me. Once. Who
really knows. Best
to stick with a metallic
beauty and let
urges stew.
What if it was a mistake? You
were to call me and yell into your town’s last land
line, “I’m not dead dear. Stop
spreading those rumors.” Cremated
or buried—cremated and buried. Bridges
open avenues to nonchalance. Back
to the world, a quick flick of the left wrist
and release. Undo that—can’t be done.
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 