What You Were Saying
If the world should end while we are on one of our walks,
I won’t complain or use my last minutes to imagine
All the places we could have traveled or all the things
I wanted us to do together. Instead, I would sit
On the pavement or lie back on the grass, and as the sky
Burst into white and red and orange, I would take
Your hand and tell you I could not have wanted
A better life than the one I’ve had by your side.
And if the dog should be with us, frightened by the noise
Of exploding stars, I’d unhook his lead so he could
Chase a cat or some ducks one last time before
The ground opens beneath his paws and we stare at him
Falling helplessly into eternity, which is the same
As nothingness or the past that no longer has meaning.
If the world should end when you and I are talking,
Remembering a Borges short story or a poem
By Thomas Hardy, I promise you our conversation
Will still have mattered. Our words, even if cut off
Mid-sentence, will hang there in our ears, more intensely
Than any declaration of love. The parking garage
At the mall will collapse, just like the new supermarket
Across the street. The ocean will rush back into the canal,
And airplanes will dive toward the earth like meteorites
Cast down from the stars. It will be an ending without
Angels or trumpets, without prophets or evil kings.
Just fate, petty, nitpicking fate, inexorable as arithmetic
Or the end of vacation. Poor, thoughtless fate,
Rolling across the green felt of the billiard table
As palm trees burst into flame. If the world
Should end during one of our walks, perhaps
In late spring when bougainvillea is blooming
By the sidewalk, and bleeding heart vine
Flowers red and purple, I would not look at either.
I would only look in your direction. Quick, mi amor,
Finish what you were telling me about Borges.
*
George Franklin is the author of eight poetry collections, including the recent A Man Made of Stories, and a book of essays, Poetry & Pigeons: Short Essays on Writing (both Sheila-Na-Gig Editions, 2025). Individual poems have been published in The High Window, One Art, Solstice, Nimrod, Rattle, New Ohio Review, and storySouth, among others. He practices law in Miami, is a translation editor for Cagibi, teaches poetry classes in Florida prisons, and co-translated, along with the author, Ximena Gómez’s Último día/Last Day.