I lift the blind one last time before bed
and look out.
Nothing’s moving as far as I can see,
but I know

there’s a teeming,
an orgy, a war raging
among the microorganisms
in the yard.

Life doesn’t stop
because I imagine
nothing
when I sleep,

no matter how hard I pretend
that sleep is like death.
Nothing is like death except death,
and I’m not even sure of that,

which makes me smile as I turn off the lights.
“Fight and fuck,
divide and conquer,
my friends,” I say before I go,

realizing that right now
I’m as unnecessary to them
as my God is to me
whenever I am doing the same.

,