i will not live forever.
i will go in the morning
after i have stayed up the whole night
after i watched the sky conclude its rites
and the moth, the cricket
and all the peeping, creeping things
have covered themselves over with leaves and dirt.
i will wait for a bit of time,
for the city to collapse
so i can take one last picture
before closing up into eternity with you,
my precious ones, who i have lived to die with.
i do not want eternity with my saddened, disillusioned mind
and i do not want eternity with enlightenment.
i will wait the second or two for you to join me
in this place
where the blackness is a rainbow
–Hilary Krzywkowski Flexer
My thumbprint is rather uneventful–
shape of arousal.
hers is an actual whorl
a circle spiraling delicate and tiny
an iris of touch
the golden ratio.
—- Hilary Krzywkowski Flexer
Hilary Krzywkowski Flexer is a Cleveland Heights poet, artist, mother and wife. She draws vibrant, self-empowering and healing images, and has been published throughout the very small press.