LIVING AND DYING

my soul is a cord
strung knot to knot --  
all i've been
and will be,
every face
i've loved and lost
strung along
on currents
under the skin
where oceans
ebb and roll
undetected
and gods
and devils
navigate,
seeking
treasure
 
our friends  
and family
point the way
home
 
at the final turn
the hammer
comes down
hard,
the sternum
splinters
like oak
and the air goes
thick with memory --
a box of
Polaroids,
Beatles records,
a pack of Marlboro
because he thought
that's what Dylan smoked,
and a photo of the
first girl who actually  
broke his heart
 
after that,
it's a bucket of ashes
and hammered bone,
none of it important --
its glory a spark,
gone