Terminal Lucidity

Sometimes before the end,
the body rallies— a song

            might climb up the throat, 
a memory flash to the surface 

of the mind. Imagine a room 
cloaked in grey fog suddenly washed

            with burnt umber and strokes
of light. You would feel changed too, 

if not charged; mistake 
the rattle of keys for wasps 

            beating at the window. Here
comes a wagon and a hand-

cart piled with goods. One is usually
easier to unload than the other. 

             That sudden burst of strength, 
a managing. How much farther,

how much longer, until coins
honor the lifetimes held in your eyes.

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