YOU ARE IN NEARLY EVERY FUTURE
BY NOAH FALCK
you drink until
it’s a new era
of music,
until the kids
can’t live with
all the beauty
with each other
with you
overhead
the sky spills
out as if choked
from a stray dog’s heart
and it’s too beautiful
to hashtag
you stand
in the cold
in another poem
where your mother
foreshadows the last garden
grown under floodlights
at the last funeral there
will only be the idea
of I am sorry for your loss
there will be a face, a body,
and a voice inside your
head about to rain
it’s not unlike a storybook
with all the pages torn out
a song stuck on repeat
in an empty room
we are sorry for your loss
