Static

I’ve contemplated your loss

In those moments when the threat

Of war overrides all known egress

*

My features would be the first to fall

For the heart cannot grasp its fatality

In the instant that it has been slain

*

Without you there is no use of perception

And if still intact I’d remove my eyes

Forcibly for their failure to incite in you

One iota of regenerative sympathy

*

My heart having been preserved

By your grace would demoralize

And I’d use its brokenness

As an excuse for all subsequent

Defamation of my moral character

*

My muse would pluck every feather

Ever incurred by your faith

Before heading south in search

Of more animate hosts

Leaving me with no means

To articulate or purge my grief

*

The world would find no aperture

With which to reenter, no fissure

Within which hope might thread

For I would have become as stone

Under the gravity

Of a more oppressive orbit

*

I would set the television to winter

That I might claim my yellow lane

Amongst the victimized dead

For there is no cell within that could

Supersede our collective existence

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