The Sixth Extinction

A split second
Or eons
After the Sixth Extinction,
The auroral green-edged pinks
And lava-esque tangerines
Took away
What I thought of as my breath,
Dismantled
What I thought of as the sky.
(Has the world exploded, or have I?)
I could not seperate
What I thought of as my eyes
From the fuschia rainscape.
No mother, no father,
No faithful dog.
(Don’t the dead come greeting?)
I searched for you.
You died in my arms,
Kept me calm.
“Look for me on the other side.”
I do not think I am going
Anywhere.
I find ways to pass
What is not even time.
Wearing your robe until you came home,
Finding the shoebox
Of every card, note
And grocery list
I ever gave you,
The kiss by Willow Lake
That was neither chaos, nor fate,
But three seconds’ proof of God.
(You must be alone somewhere too.)
Perhaps what you think of as your mind
Is also pushing play and rewind.
When all is said and done
Starless in the memory
Of one’s home constellation,
What survives?
Psychologists say memory
Is just a story
We keep changing to ourselves
You kissed me and we laughed.
Perhaps it was just a gallery lithograph
That once I saw
Alone,
Lovers parting at a train
That runs into being strangers again.