that money will come in to pay each debt
each of our creditors somehow forget
what's due. And then arrives that dreadful day
that day of wrath when everything that's due
will be demanded of us, flesh and bone,
sinew and tendon. And the mind alone
stripped of all that is naked. What's to do
but keep some little back to warm the cold
quivering thought that's all that still remains,
in the grey mulch of our slow dying brains?
Prepare those dying moments now. Just hold
your lover tighter, savour on your tongue
hot pepper. And make art, now, while you're young.