<b>Last Words</b>
mh   5/13/98 


I’ve seen lines of
sullen men wandering
lands like windblown pollen,
only stopping to ferment and reproduce apathy.

I’ve heard rumors of 
wild women wrestling
mud in their own image,
only stopping to chisel and reproduce oppression.

I’ve listened to 
stray cats  (and an occasional dog)
whine the sorrows of their surroundings,
powerless to do anything 
but stop, yelp, and reproduce hunger.

I’ve told tales of 
rain too impatient 
to fall, wound up in a 
cumulous H2O ball,
only stopping to dissipate and reproduce impatience.

I’ve prayed to wooden
crosses hung stable
on rickety church doors,
myself
only stopping to question and reproduce my doubts.  


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