Terminal Lucidity

October is a hospice, painted

In ice-bleaching pigments-

Corporate management

Has announced a

Manifest destiny in black-and-white.

 So it defies itself, illuminating inner revolution

in

tones of reds and oranges-

traffic signals

that spotlight

the coming

stop.

A flush of ruddy foliage

belies the forest canopy’s

last burst of vigor-

a crown of marigolds

perched on the pate

of a grinning skeleton.

Birds consume intoxicated berries

that the equinox has shifted

Into wine, a rash of bacchanalia

before their inner compass

compels them to abandon here.

The ground is littered with swollen gourds and

Apples,

this generation’s

Will and testament- nourishment to inherit

By those who survive beneath

The coming alabaster shroud.

Snapping jaws of dawn frost compel an

urgency- urgency!

that spreads like contagion, chasing

Scarlet and green-cheeked

salmon

up cascades

 to bury

genetic treasure

among watery, graveled beds.

Perfumed notes of

Petrichor, Smoke

And decay

Will not leave with

Approaching North wind.

It persists, clinging to the cracks

that sanitized sponges

cannot reach,

Replenishing themselves in

The air-

Rhythmic, as a

Still-strong heartbeat.

The landscape is studded with

Pockets- insulated shelters that

glisten with body heat and

inner monologues

bedecked with artifacts

and souvenirs-

escape tunnels

mirrored with images

of spring and summer

moments.

At the front desk, neutral-faced

Employees

Keep busy- they

paint signs

With phrases like

Closed for winter

and

Excuse our hibernation

They wear earbuds to drown

The sound of beeping machines

That track signs of life.

For most, being finite

Is innate- they have been separate

Always

From other generations,

Who exist beyond

Borders made of

Seed coatings and eggshells.

There is no path outward

Beyond white walls

Or doors

Of future.

But whispers

In a language

only they understand

 come instead

From the duff beneath

The rollers of their sickbeds- scraps

Of ancestral DNA

That share the secret

That comes from being

Mixed,

Integrated,

buried

In the earth.

When it ends, there will be no closing ceremony here

In this building- only

Chalky, cinder walls

That close inward

Inward

Until there is no space

Left inside.

By then,

The ones who can hear it

Have disappeared down

To where the envelopes of time

Can no longer

Contain them.