About the end

I’m sure now, where once
I wasn’t, it ends
in some dark oblivion. Our
rubber universe is expanding and

when it snaps back in
on itself, outer limits meeting the centre,
like a windscreen insect,
nothing is more likely

than something. I imagined worlds
after this one, plane intersecting plane,
scoffing at heaven/
hell dichotomies,

dying dogmas. I even walked breathing twilights
wet and shining out of my body,
born again. But that now
eems too much to promise

myself waiting in my skin like an elephant
whose size and improbability
gives birth, in mind,
to ridiculous ideas of design.



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