I WILL NOT GO GENTLE

into any good night. This body
loves its rage. I will not sit back
for any show. When it comes time
to depart I will do it with a throat
sore from screaming. Bruised knees
and fingertips charred from toying
with embers. I will not submit
to the silence of slipping away.
I will leave with bloodshot eyes
and shattered bones. Skin torn
from having lived a life of feeling.
I will not leave before letting
the whole world know I was here.
I was here. I was here
and to be me
was to make sure of it. I will not
leave under cover of darkness.
I will leave an echo. A porch light.
A poem. I will leave my love on.

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