By Rachel Tanner
After Greenland (2020)
I split us open like an egg, air
peeling itself away from us, forcing
holding hands into prayer position.
Know that I tried. Know that I
rushed home to find you
and tell you this ending could be
our beginning. Once
in a million lifetimes, the sky rains
hell down on whoever walks the earth. Once,
you looked at me and told me
my ache was not the most important
thing about me. Once, I broke
what I couldn’t fix. Forever is a concept
I’ve never believed in, but what I do believe in
is you. So when the comet crashes
and everything falls silent, I will find you
beyond the atmosphere, floating through
the clouds, wondering aloud if you
forgot to turn the oven off that morning.
I will love you
beyond this life.
