A Cargo of Green Hearts
it may be that the world will end
the full rug of it yanked out
for you or all of us or just those
who according to the promise
were supposed to inherit the earth.
the thought may break you
even before you die, draw
an invisible shade over your
eyes so that the light cannot
reach the cellar of your chest
and your tongue wiggles in confusion.
have I spoken plainly enough?
the heart doesn’t die of murder
it dies of suicide. this is
the way the world really ends.
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