Last Things
I've heard you'll lose weight
with your last breath, twenty-one
grams will fly away
going somewhere bright,
I suppose, somewhere rosy
and better than here.
Left behind, a bag
of bones and suet and sinew
largely food for those
who live on last things
but those hazy twenty-one grams
are long gone by then.
December 14, 2010 3:58 PM
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The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.