Being Hope

He told me, again, I need to have hope.

I sighed.

The transactional kind?

The bargaining kind?

You mean as a means?

I don’t belong in your empty container.

I don’t belong fractured in your bones.

How long shall I be with and in you?

Does it matter?

The pall upon this dawn wants evidence

of the atrocities done in the name of

hope.

So, I shall not reject what is.

I shall not spend the rest of my life in a state of desire.

Inside the helix of good and evil.

If you desire to save me, have me right now

on the floor.

A slant of light on the wood will illuminate us.

Yes, our bank accounts are empty now.

Yes, there may be no afterglow.

But I am satisfied with your lips and neck.

Hear the mower outside.

Take my camera and photograph my legs.

But use a fast shutter speed because they are shaking.

And after you open your wings and fly away,

I will not hope for a better life.

I will be a better life.