Road Kill (84)

But the birds have no graves, my love, once love,

and there is heaven there, where they reside—

where these feathers are still green, red, still gold.

Is it heaven, darling, heaven, where we've gone?

Heaven darling, I do I do I do,

if we are ahead, anyway, I do.

If, my darling—but don't write back—I do.

Darling, light no fires, these wings still luff.

But who? Who then, darling, if we are not?

But who then darling, who, would still have eyes?

But who then darling, who, will name the roads?

Who then, darling, will shiver with the doves?

Dearest, darling, my once love, and who will rove?