And here it fell apart
the future like patterns
of nothing
like ligaments and tissues
of a 90-year-old heart
lika a hip bone on the front steps

like a glass that dropped
from the hands that held half-wet
a white drying cloth

like anything that surprises
you
like anything that scares you it fell apart
like a body in a casket

like cigarette ash
like a hole in the car seat
and we are swatting where our legs meet
and we aren't watching the road
and we are building two tracks in the ditch grass
together
like ruts on the Oregon Trail
this was where we passed, these two troughs
plowed through the soil
here we laboured and did not sow

or here we left deep lines
like baby's skin wrinkled
our legs curved like saplings
our arms curved, our backs
like ape's, like new humans
like the past curved
in our womb of steel frame and shattered glass
and pillowing white cloth

when we are lying side by side
when we have passed
may worms and ants carve passages
as our bodies sigh together
and our memorial shall be of flowers
silk or lasting plastic