Judgment Day Poem by Donal Mahoney

If I knew I'd live forever
I'd never send a poem out.
No poem ever comes with

ten fingers and ten toes
so I’d keep revising, add
what's missing, remove

what shouldn’t be there
and put in the right fillip.
One can only write

while the sun streams in
because too soon
the moon comes out

and in the dark
one can’t fix a thing.
Once you’re dead

your poems live on,
warts and all, naked
on a sheet of foolscap

or afloat in cyberspace
for all to read and fault.
It’s Judgment Day.