Thanatophobia

By Eric Fisher Stone

I cried because life is hopeless and beautiful. 
—Howard Nemerov 

Earth spins, blessed by corn snakes 
and measured dripping snails. I looked 
at my watch in math class, and knew: 
the secondhand notches closer to my death 
when I’d lose my lover, the world. 
Heaven, preachers said, is the reward 
for goodness. Could I smell fresh mown grass 
from vapored cloudy mansions? 
Here, strawberries fatten like pregnant spiders, 
streetlamps drape night’s ghosts 
in blue gowns. Dread knocked my guts,  
clock hands swirling to abyss 
where the dead feel and want nothing, 
having no self. God couldn’t fashion 
a richer universe than ours. 
Mayflies live one day, mating 
in flitting patties. Dying, 
they shower rivers without hope 
of paradise, or lust for remembrance. 
God is fleshy as mint leaves, the fissured moons 
of bread rolls. The world is enough for love.

Eric Fisher Stone is a poet from Fort Worth, Texas. He received his MFA in writing and the environment from Iowa State University. His poetry collection, “The Providence of Grass,” was published by “Chatter House Press” in 2018. His second poetry collection, “Animal Joy,” is forthcoming from WordTech Editions in October 2021.