For Now, Though

If it weren’t that you’ll all
Be gone yourselves, you’d be
Surprised to find the world
Still there after all this.

Words can’t be self-conscious,
But articulations
Of self-consciousness are
Formed entirely of words.

The boy is crying just
Before execution
By other boys, his face
An expression of tears.

He knows what is coming,
That in a few seconds
He won’t be a crying
Boy, won’t exist to cry

In anticipation
Of being painfully
Taken from him being
Himself any longer,

Of being unable
To wake up in surprise
To find the world still there,
With or without the words.