Z Is The End Poem by Drew Mazur

the grit from morning humbled
no stars to steal its neigh
I love the way the sax sounds
in the middle of the day

and now only the dusk will woo
with its sweet harmonies
but when that ginger moon is high
I add it to my tea

for as this heaven wakens
there is no G-d I seek
z is the end, I say
a note that falls asleep

the crickets rise like soldiers
with their phosphorescent brothers
an irrevocable heartbreak
stars pilot us towards dawn