By Anonymous
nine bruised pennies,
eight glasses sparkling,
seven of your photographs torn.
you said you’d had a dream about your sister;
she was dying, or you were dying,
or your brother was dying
except you didn’t have a brother
and even if he was
dying you and your sister only
cared about each other.
the planes were crashing,
the boats were sinking,
you a kissed a man you thought
was god hoping maybe he would
save you. he wasn’t god. he
kissed you back. and the
world, like movie credits,
was rolling to its end,
and really, it was gorgeous,
or maybe you were—
you are where it all ends. you are
where it all begins.
in my dreams you always die at the end
or you turn out a saviour.