Nothing I thought of hoping for will happen,
Although the smallest hopes will be
My downfall. Oh, and the whole wide world
Is holding its collective, oxygen-dependent
Breath to know what will be your downfall,
Boyo. And do you even know what boyo
Signifies? You don't. You just read some
Printed words and inferred the worst. Hope
Is the naughtiest word of them all. Bastard
Offspring of doubt and bounded rationality,
Hope dances like a nonexistent fairy
On a humble bit of leaf propped up
For a late nineteenth-century daguerreotype
Composed by a bewhiskered Englishman.
What she says by dancing, by appearing
To actually exist, is this: you can't see me
Unless you're already well beyond doomed
And living for the dreaming of your bones.
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