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