The Last Boy - Maria McKee

And I’m grown I have logic and wisdom and clarity

And I know about magic and reason and the disparity

And as I’m ticking down the days to whatever time is left

Of my senses it seems I have become bereft

I am undone I am once again undone

By beauty I am mostly always undone

I have an existential understanding of

What the poets mean when they refer to love

But he’s The Last Boy

Whom the gods have sent to lark as I am thus destroyed

And my will and all my years lay in the balance

As I’m veering towards this consecrated openness

My weary soul is faint and failing fast

And this longing gaze I take may be

The last of me

And he shambles in all the right ways

Flinching, caught by the light in such bewitching disarray

Oh scoop him up and drop him back into the nest

Take his fledgling hands and find him rest, oh

When oh, oh, oh, my sanity be damned

How he vexes me this constantly surprising little scandal

When I am ashen and my voice has fallen dark

His confectionary face will sweetly flutter across my heart

Acute perception, such a blessing and affliction

Ruling recklessly when coaxing forth affection

From The Last Boy

Whom the gods have sent to lark as I am thus destroyed

And my will and all my years lay in the balance

As I’m veering towards this consecrated openness

My weary soul is faint and failing fast

And this longing gaze I take may be

The last of me

And at my end of days I’ll cover all the mirrors

Find this well worn page and with coyness linger here

With The Last Boy

Whom the gods have sent to lark as I am thus destroyed

And my will and all my years lay in the balance

As I’m veering towards this consecrated openness

My weary soul is faint and failing fast

And this longing gaze I take may be

The last of me