Comet

Can it wait

The word 

Until the bitter glisten 

Has receded 

The final word 

Of the penultimate poem

The last one being

The one which was unwritten 

Can it hold 

Its tongue

Until the last drop is wrung

Been bled 

And Butchered 

And gutted and hung 

Like the hare and the pheasant 

And the dog and the gun

Shall we end the pretence

Before it's begun?

Sorry that your book was ripped 

Like the lining of my stomach 

Sorry that the switch was tripped

into an ecstasy of profound obscurity

as we plummet

Like Orpheus and Eurydice 

Like Romeo and johnny 

Like the end of the trail 

The beginning of the comet. 

2016 - moscow 

artwork: irina savina