How It Ends

after the credits
the screen is dark but
           you’re still seated
           elbows touching
           holding the story open
           between you

after the song
the commercials roll but
            your hands are still tapping 4/4 on
            the steering wheel
            later the words tumble out while you stir
            spaghetti sauce
            and your feet tap under the table
            as days are retold
            with parmesan and garlic bread
                       
after the drive
you shut the engine off but
            it pings
            pops
            hot
            water pools underneath,
            the exhale after 
            three states of air-conditioning
            later, you find
            agates
            sand
            broken periwinkles
            a crumpled map
            the past nine months kicked under floor mats
            and wedged between seats
           
your daughter laughs and
a face you’ve forgotten
that she’s never met
​is here
            in her smile
            but also in her
            dance
            swagger
            presence
            you try to explain how she is
            your grandmother
            (in only the best ways) but
            you are also telling about
            coupons and visiting
            the long forgetting
            cruelty and hurt
            and it all lives in
            your precious girl’s laugh
           
we've come from our woods
where there are ghosts
empty mines
some collapsed
others red rock ruins
stories of miners and our family
who traveled into the copper heart
others who never saw the sun again
            your children climb on the poor rock
            laughing
            as they keep sliding back down
            they squeal at a spider
            they reach for ripe berries
            in the stamp mill walls
            we picnic in the rubble
​            and plan a ride to the stamp sands
            as if they were
            a playground not a ghostyard
           
and in the car later
on the radio
you hear the capital has fallen
the war is over but
            in the arms reaching up
            to the airport door
            closing
            the past twenty years
            are never ending
            an old war morphing yet again
                       
at night your son asks questions
he wonders who will die first
he wonders what life will be like after
he wonders at the anguish he might feel
he wonders at the emptiness of dying
you wonder too
like when you’re driving and there’s a wreck and
you shudder
knowing your turn will come
and you wonder:
will you end or
will you echo
 
you don’t say any of this though
to him you only say that death is scary
inevitable
he pinches his eyes shut and whispers that
these thoughts always come at night
and this is why he needs you
            he swears there are ghosts here
            good ghosts, you promise
            he rolls his eyes
            he knows it all ends but still
            he wonders
            how