The End of the End

by Brian Flynn


Do you remember
our beautiful life? The same
one you mentioned
near the end, subtle
as a cat’s yawn?
Do you remember
Miss Essie crying?
Pope John Paul II had died;
we were in the living room,
and she was crying.

I am just now learning
loss, and there’s fresh honey
on the roadside.
Do you think his world
is ending? It’s just before
a rain, and he is selling honey
from his truck bed.

Say something about our yellow
house and Charlie
in the yard— something about
our beautiful life.
Say something about catching gar
with cotton balls,
how it snares up in their teeth.

I think the world will end
with hound dogs baying.
I’m not so sure it ends
like this.
Do you still believe in God?
Some days I do. Do you
our beautiful life?

Do you remember the chicken coop?
This feels like the end
of the end.
We are barefoot
in the kitchen. The cutting board
is always out.
We are drunk and need no sleep.


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