Ever Poem by Frank Avon

The heart stops.
Nothing else.

The sycamores still
shade your deck.

The wisteria reaches
and keeps on reaching.

Football games.
Election days.

Winter solstice.
April's rains.

The New York Times.
Broadway plays.

What people say.
How they think.

(...all those years
all those names

all those visions
all those incidents

simply
disappear.)

Thistles.
Queen Anne's lace.

Shakespeare.
Mahler.

Rivers run.
Mountains stand.

Orion and Sirius
will still be there.

The heart stops.
Intermission.