Poetry: After the End

 Imagine you came to the end of the world. 

And kept on walking. 

What else could you do? 

When you had counted all your pennies,

and allotted each to its own tax. 

The king’s horsemen arrived 

to pick up what was never yours

and carry it away

in golden caskets

that fit in the palm

of a hand

And you are left only 

with your two feet

Steady.

And your breath-

though it is getting harder

to breathe

the air now-

you will continue

after the end

to persevere.