A friend told me that if
I want to store something
I see in memory, to blink
my eyes, deliberately,
as if my eyelids were
a camera’s shutter. I do
this frequently now and
suppose that’s what
the earth is doing when
she closes her eyelids
at night: remembering,
everything. Just in case
it all should vanish.
I join her. I intend
to carry as much of it
with me as my soul
can hold, as a witness.
Just in case we’re the last ones
ever to be here. You never know.