Exhaling the Ultimate
by Odin Roark

This cadence of a last breath,
this moment to determine
from where one’s final rhythm emanates.

Mirrored childhood,
adolescence,
or that much dreaded
final curtain of maturity?

Such parades the swell and gasp,
a Rite of Spring paradox
ingested forever the ethereal intravenous surge of finality.

Will it have a serpentine’s duplicity,
able to flow with a flowery resonance,
or the prickly shrill of cacti,
seeming to understand life’s chances
are but rabbits in the hat?

Will retention of the baby breath of suckling contentment
make silent intrusive memories of first-love betrayal and beyond?

Or…

Might the crackling rock of roll
make unexpected expansion of racing energy,
produce a heave,
a final extolling breath well spent?

Oh, how tenuous the allowance,
this last moment,
this ultimate attempt
to keep breathing the end’s ultimate message.