Asphodel
Oh this life, I can take you on my own —
I can take you out to the open fields
of Asphodel, and lay your casket down
so we are facing each other, just talking,
myself doing most of the talking.
And you will lay beside me, eyes shut,
brimming with anticipation for what comes next
even though we aren’t quite there yet.
And I will tell you stories, good and bad,
and your reaction will be the same
no matter how many plot twists I incorporate
such as the butler being the victim,
or the tortoise losing the race.
I too, have lost something
I hint to you, but you do not pick up on it.
You do not pick up on much these days,
which are really more or less the same
down here, as we have lost track of the sun
along with the time.
Still, I will seek to elicit from you a response —
a wink, perhaps,
or maybe a nod of the head.
I would even take a single raised eyebrow,
to say nothing of a smile
or a laugh
or a hand, grazing mine
as it rushes back to life,
grasping at rebirth
with fingers interlocking
as we stroll across the fields
and recount our stories under the sun.