The Gate

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

We know one shore that has twelve trillion paths

To it but only one.  Exactly what

That means you know.  Not many aftermaths —

It is the aftermath of life.  A shut

Gate slams behind us, slams behind both you

And yours.  It slams and locks out life and breath.

That absoluteness is the only true

Fact.  Bang.  That’s it.  It drowns, your baptized death.

We pass untold through many other gates

And some might turn to take another path,

Might turn and exit back, relinquish hates

And loves, but this one gate knows only wrath.

  A syndicate of ways to die we know

    But only one location.  It lacks glow.

©

This sonnet is to be read in conjunction with “Separated Identical Conjoined Twins.”