In lieu of flowers,
it might be
gracious enough
to consider how
right now,
pure light
from the end of the universe—
weightless waves
from nowhere—
are on their way
here
through the nothing
that's there.
And yet,
you and I can
still get distracted
by the words
like ads
for what we don't have;
we will quibble
about the shape of space
like the fit of a new shirt
and refuse to die
without having first
equivocated
about the pedigree
and color
of the nectar
that's refracted.