CATECHISM

What is death?—

     Not an opportunist,

     but a highly skilled

     and scientifically

     literate terrorist.

     Luckily, life is not
     a nuclear submarine—

     that is,

     it didn’t come

     with any blueprints.

What then, is life?—

     A game
     whose number one rule is

     if you think it’s a game, 

     then in this moment, 

     you’re losing. 

Losing? 

     Catching moments 

     like fish 

     in a translucent lake

     even though you know you'll have 

     to throw them back before you go. 

And this moment?—

     The ongoing affliction
     of not being able to decide

     if you’d rather have
     yesterday back
     or tomorrow.

Yesterday I've heard of, but 

what the hell's tomorrow?—

     Blameless sweet white
     frosting on a birthday cake.

     Each year, under 

     greater threat 

     of caramelization into sorrow

     from the innocuous addition
     of one more slight flame. 

And sorrow? 

     Any time during 

     when you suspect

     there might be an ending 

     to this game.