When Last Light Comes—We Soften

by Lyla Forest Butler

When Last Light comes— we soften—

When we un-don the Stays—

We prize to Breathe, the Lovers

All pink for Judgement day—

We grasp each Other, Taking—

While walls are all ablaze

Not asking— cross the Canyon

Into— perdition’s Place—

The citizens are wailing—

Newborns— are born to die—

While we parade in Darkness

Into Hell’s piquant sky.