The Wild Muse

wildness, wonder, and the spirit of place

New Poem – The Real Last

1 Comment

The Real Last

This is the last

And when you say the last

The words are meant to be sloppy

The trough of vowels will fill with your protests

A golden calf with fall into the river

Where your tears may also follow

If there are some to give

 

I am at a loss for the last

I have crayoned the walls

The dog’s head

With the outline of one more

There must be

 

You’ll see the last

Swinging by its noose

You’ll see the last

Discarded panties in an arcade

Behind alleyways

In the oceanic garble

Of dishwashers and garbage disposals

Where the last waits, smirking

 

I don’t speak the truth of the last

To polite folk – their ramrod

Dalliance with moderation

Unglues the envelope

They kiss and swim in what is

Not seeing the last

Make a big exit

That may arrive at any time

 

You wonder why the last

Has us hounded

Treed, chewing my nails

To the nub – not giving the damn

Needed to bathe

It is the last

Within the clutch

Of what I will never get

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Author: Aleah Sato

Writer, wanderer, dreamer, desert dweller

One thought on “New Poem – The Real Last

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