But what about after you die?
aside (such a large word for all this),
what about the peculiar kinesthesia
you touched his body and heard
electronic music of the spheres,
blossoming off each finger’s alight?
What about your sister’s voice,
as sin, saying she does not want
you to end up in hell? Her aching
eyes, the bridge of her nose
a paradise of freckles.
about all of the words, the pages
of sounds, each image burning
your scent? Even those, reckoned
by fire, by your own failure to last.