Last Minutes

In silk fit for requiem,
he waits for fate, feels
for sun with trembling

eyelash arms, thinks
he hears his brother
buzzing overhead�"it is just

her blue breath, the dripping

of venom, the clicking

of soft bone.

She licks the sweat

from his limbs, splits

his top
from bottom,

drinks.

We will remember our love in this way:

the failed rescues,
the forgetful god.