In the End  

How essential it is
to go back to dust,
ashes & be forgotten
by springtime.  

When longing for rhyme
& gathering wild cotton
& understanding that lust
& love are no longer what is,  

for such is tucked away.
Staying is not an option.
No longer to inhabit the earth,
 kept from wishing, from desire.
In the end things expire,

no more touching, no more worth 
in a woman pressed to man. Only absorption
night & day…