What else is there
for him to say except

that an ending can be as lovely
as any beginning

that not all endings are
also beginnings

that some things end and
there’s beauty in recalling

what is gone
and shall not return

He says these things
in fear of the next morning

that he knows
will not come for him

says these things
as the sky lowers toward him

says these things
as the light begins to flee from him

says these things as if they were

They are not spells and
there’s no magic anywhere

that can resolve this ending
into a fresh start 

But he lies as always
as if it will be true in time to save him

as if truth were as much to be feared
as ending 

as if truth mattered at all to the narrative
happening here



About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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