we are the end

by Matthew Stokdyk

We are the end.
We said goodbye at the Gethsemane drive-in
(and you didn’t even give me a kiss).
You’re too cold to study Latin.
You had always kept me grounded, held down
like Isaac on the pyre. Bind me again,
touch my eyes with your tongue and make me see.
You’re too cold for this town.
And I was Samson, pillared (but too weak)
and struck by blinding lights
from the police cruiser rammed up behind us.
You’re too cold for me.
And I’d see God when I learned Greek,
and remember that day in winter, with the vase of Ajax,
when you called before class, before the funeral,
to keep you from death.