Celestial Pocketbook

Benjamin Jenkins, poems, poetry, writing

I Struggle to accumulate

Post mortem photography.

My pockets are empty,

Save a wallet full of I.D. and points cards, and an IPhone 4.

When your zone is boarding

Pack your memories and acquaintances,

Your dreams, triumphs, and regrets.

Leave money, body, and society.

Whichever age you acquire,

Lay your irises on the horizon

And prepare for liftoff.

Atoms, cells, to galaxies

Bound by gravity.

We tango in a concentric circle

Slowly, barely feeling a thing.

Touch lips,

Fingertips,

Noses,

And eye lashes.

Pioneering through space and time

Broadcasting the music of recent generations.

Speak nothing of history.

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