In my final hour
this is what
I would like to remember:
This summer day
Taking our hoods down
when it starts raining
All around us
a scramble
The three of us look at each other
and stay right where we are
We watch the storm drag in
like a turning up
of wet soil
I say
/Drizzle my ass/
and laugh because
ice cream is dripping
down our fingers
We grab hands
Spin
A crinkle of ponchos
Mud between our toes
/well
what can we do?/
Spread our arms
Face off with the sky
/the sooner you accept it/
Wipe glasses on wet shirts
Smile smile
smile
4 thoughts on "In my final hour"
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Such joy in this poem! And I love the backlashed parenthetical wicket-y formatting for the asides 🙂
I second the joy. There’s a lot of fun in this poem, from ice cream to mud in the toes. I enjoyed this a lot
You frame the joy
as something you’d
like to remember
in your final hour.
Hopefully that will
be the blessing
of our final hour
Lovely poem. Nicely done, Katrin.