the fossil record
<<7>>
Until the End
Until the
end came
you
nested
in these
hills.
I watched
smoke
rise from
your
"vagrant
dwelling,"
wind and
climb
from
burning center
of your
orange
dreams.
All night
those
gray braids
curled
around the
moon,
ropes of mist
on the
mast of sky.
Tomorrow
wind
will
swallow stars
and all
broken sailors
come home
to sing.
From the
seas they
will
rise, hair matted
with salt
and weeds
and
flame. They bear
witness
to wolves
feasting
on sun's
golden
flesh, cold
silver
shadows
spreading
on the sea's
bright
face.
Who will
know
the high
places
then?
Who will not
disappear?
We are
sailing to
earth's
jagged end
where
oceans collide
and great
rivers
hurrying
home
tumble
into steam.
Steven
Klepetar