Whole

Or you could pretend it’s all on hold—
That is to say, will all be on hold—
Taking a wait-and-see attitude.

Maybe some version of you will pop
Back up in the hall of ancestors,
Some sense of your continuity

Not much more deceitful than the one
That has popped back up every morning
Of your life, pretending you must be you,

The you today the you yesterday,
You you anticipate tomorrow.
Maybe someone will reconstruct you,

Beginning with a facsimile
Capable of thinking of itself
As you, which it will do. Who are you,

Long since returned to nothing by then,
To lecture not-you about pretend?
Anything on hold ever’s pretend.