67.2 YEARS

some just dig a grave for 67.2 years
some plant flowers
some kiss babies
some people run from the sun and mourn with the moon
some try to rebuild the tower of babel
some try to burn it down
some don’t sleep well
some sleep too much
some come crashing in through the ceiling machine guns
bursting from their prophetic mouths and when
it’s all said and done they walk home empty of bullets

some plant their roots
firmly in the soil
and reach their arms up to the sky
they take in water
they taste the foundation of the earth
they understand there is power
in both rainy chaos and solar structure
they take it as it comes
and they too will die
in approximately 67.2 years
but they know what it is and what it isn’t
they know that they don’t know
but the best gifts
are the ones that get used all the time
or at least are not forgotten
not even over 67.2 years
not even the course of a lifetime
so very long so very lovely
so very full of potential to live a lot longer


Author: brice maiurro

Denver poet. Author of Stupid Flowers, out now through Punch Drunk Press.

2 thoughts on “67.2 YEARS”

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