just—
if we were to go,
we would go quickly
brightly
burst against the wall
which we would then blow back with all our force—
let destruction be our postscript
let them know we stood and fell for something
that we dragged them down with us
if we were to go,
we would go up in flames
because fire is not a real death
it is a birth of ash
heralded by holy smoke
and we could see why phoenixes and souls were thought
to rise with smoke
and so we hope we’d go:
up, in flames
up, in smoke
until our touchless fingers reached the sky
until our tasteless tongues flicked out to savor clouds—
so as we go down
with our Viking ship
we will
go up
live on
in smoke.