Published on: 2/5/2010
A Toast

Here's to knowing that we will last,
that a child is singing in the other room,
and we cannot unhear his voice.

Here's to Henry, who always threatened
to kill himself, and so far, never did.
He still owes me fifty dollars.

Here's to the architecture of grief,
where the vaulted ceilings are
at the point of collapse.

Here's to knowing that we exist, that we
wait, that we break lifetimes against
our backs as if we still have time.