Tonight’s Apocalypse

To my daughter.

A flight attendant once told me that every day is the end of the world

If so, let this apocalypse come with the soft, selfish righteousness of lap cats

Let it come with the truth of the cello calling from the speaker

And the feel of your body folded into mine as we laugh

Let it come with a dark night sky flayed with stars, gossiping with their delight to be worshipped again;

Let it come with tickles

Let it come with eight kisses before bedtime

The shedding of who we didn’t mean to be today

The priest in the sky is probably true, probably right

He's been up there a long time, after all

Goodbye today!

I made some mistakes

Nothing eight hours of exquisite nonsense can't fix, if I sweat

Nothing that I can't unlearn on the rotation to the next apocalypse

That delicious time between saying goodnight to you and waking up

Stunned to live again

with you, my perfect little horseman.