Oblivion

The dozen ways they did it –

off a bridge, the back of a boat,

pills, head in the oven, or

wrapped in her mother’s old mink coat

in the garage, a brick on the accelerator,

the Cougar’s motor thrumming

while she crossed over.

What they left behind –

the outline of a stalled novel, diaries,

their best poems, the note that ends

now will you believe me,

offspring of various ages, spouses

who cared and weep and yet

admit relief now that it’s over.… Leer más