Poetry

Like a large, black, 
stag beetle, you give a sermon 
on living. You don’t believe 
in death. 
 
Ready to jump from the 
cliff, how did you reach there? 
Slipping through the 
cracks of a marathon! 
 
Amid fear and anxiety 
hitting the raw line of finish 
with tranced frenzy. 
 
After glass and long kisses, 
did you eat the prickly pears ? 
On the way to salvation, you 
were giving very― 
uncharitable commentary 
at the terminus.