Stars and people and daffodils won't last forever.
Hands down, forever will succumb to a single sensation,
one last heaven, one last shudder
lost voice carried over the winds of the body, the canyons
of the hands in a shower, snow or warm? Last ashes
of satisfaction dance above an open mouth, teeth like light
in an emptied room, the wet music of the tongue.
Somebody will find the edge to all of humanity's joy, a flood,
a punctuation will flood her with its certainty,
or them, or us, all at once, and that lonely breach
will ripple through, on and out, with indefatigable atoms.
Those asking hands never to slow their speeding ship
one last starry daffodil excess will blow its soft dunes,
that lost voice, back, over everything that ever came
before. Until emptied out. And if you slow, if you slowly reach
across your own body until you feel it, too, even now?
You can come to an end, even now. It lasts, wanting to.
The Last Orgasm by Tobias Wray | Sandalwood Poetry Reed Diffuser
$15.00Price
Tobias Wray’s first collection, No Doubt I Will Return a Different Man, won the Lighthouse Poetry Series Competition. His poems have found homes in Poem-a-Day, Poetry Daily, and elsewhere. His work has received various other awards, including a National Endowment of the Arts fellowship. Reach him at tobiaswray.com.
