poem for the vast distances that we will die trying to cross

got yr husband and yr ex and yr
child and do you remember
that i was the prophet of all your wasted years?

do you understand you’re
the ghost of mine?

and it’s early afternoon on some
bitter grey sunday and
i’m not nearly drunk enough, and i still
have the letter where you told me you forgave me,
and i hope you still have the one where i
told you to fuck off and die

and i hope you’re all right

i hope we’re both still immortal

i’m pretty sure i need to see you
at least one more time

john sweet, b 1968, still numbered among the living in upstate NY. A believer in writing as catharsis. Opposed to all organized religion and political ideologies. His latest collection is BUT I REMEMBER THE FUTURE BECAUSE IT ALL TURNED OUT WRONG (2024 Alien Buddha Press).