Bring me the sunset in a cup

so I can drink it in.

So it can saturate

my darkened body

with warmth. 

So beauty can fight the ugly

in me.

Bring me the sunset in a cup so I can keep some for later

when the fingers that protrude through the earth

lock 

onto my soil stained feet and 

drag me 

towards their 

gnashing jaws.

And bring me the sunset in a cup so when both of our hair has turned the color of

a freshly pressed nickel and 

our skin has matured and now sketches the landscape of 

roads we have journeyed and mountains we have ascended,

so when our bones begin to crumble and collapse like 

temples from decades past,

we can pour it out on our doorstep,

and gaze as it leaks across the sky 

and our bodies can be poured into molds we formed when 

you brought me the sunset in a cup.