the sun is rising

Here is some poetry that presents itself as a giraffe's tongue: black and slimy.


Denial
It is a river in Egypt.

It's dark
Blacklight dark? Will ultraviolet evidence end up on a patchy hotel bedspread crawling with golden invisible bugs? Or are you accustomed to my shadowy figure enough to make out my sign language, where I can outline the veiny constellations for you?

It's ending
High school sweetheart ending? Or the last piece of blotted pepperoni pie that's been frosting in the fridge overnight ending? This can't be the last time I'll ever be able to kiss you. No wayyyy.

It's dead.
How dead? Fingernails and hair still grow when the heart stops beating. Force fed chickens, maybe the least intelligent birds in the entire animal kingdom, still run around without their heads. You know that Miracle Max can help, if true love is directly involved. Cyrotechnology has some up and coming advancements.