When this is over

take the sips of gods in shadows,
hold you laughter to the very last note
when the rain falls
use it as a ladder back to Heaven
where God plants carrots
with manure of tears.
do not take along—
with you a machete for cucumbers
that are buried in cats.
the currency for life
will become tombs.
do not buy empty holes
and leave a scent of your words in it
especially if they’re not baskets
that carry a darkness of your name.
time again will just be an evening
and your mornings will become naked flies
whose nipples are wires to these writers
dead!

Ruddapoet