this is already the after-life -
after the lives of plants and animals
consciousness sleeps in the bloom of a knife
having always known it was terminal
and whiteness flourishes on the bitten air
making contact through eddies beyond rain’s
imitation - as we disappear
featureless in the sky’s candid stain
on some planets methane drizzles and sleets
whereas about black holes light is the snow
and death evaporates in a faint heat -
our future’s the sombre after-glow
from minds wakening out of slush and slime
that really do fall and look behind time
Blackwells
Oxford
17 March 2018
composed on a day of intermittent Spring snow.