February 2, 2012

Life Without

Like all prisoners
we are released
when our sentences
have been completed,
last meals consumed,
final words spoken.
We leave behind
our worn-out
cubicle, artifacts
and dreams removed,
our demise certified
beyond reproach,
though the box describing
what it all meant
is left empty.
Just the cause,
the time, the sex
are noted
by the same hurried hand
which documented
our arrival, wiser now,
more careful to form
each letter clearly.