Lemniscape

Here lie all the lovers

Making love upon

Some ampersand-y beach,

And here lie all their childhood idols

Burning at their feet.

We live our run-on lives

From clause to clause, unsure

Of when, but knowing nonetheless,

That question marks

Will surely take us in the night.

We all are interrogatives,

Are we not? We search the sky for answers,

Yet our queries go unheard. Perhaps

God has no answers to the questions

He created.

For every night outside my window,

The sky begins to burn, and sunset, laughing,

Swallows up the dead. I'm living like a fugitive, aware

Of a growing lack of commas,

As the mouth of God draws near.

(How many moments have I missed?

Tell me I have lived a waking life -

I'm terrified of sleep. Grandpa died

In parenthesis - How cruelly punctual

His punctuation that Memorial Day.)

How much time has since elipsed?

I'm young, I know, but grant me this:

Most of life I'm sure we miss.

[Do I dare to waste a minute? I've

Only ever had a single kiss...]

We get glimpses of infinity

In teaspoon-sized amounts:

A snowy sumac here, a passionate embrace.

Like Moses, we can only chance upon

The promised lemniscape.