When the time comes
and we get close
– or closer –
depending on your definition of those words,
you will find that you can recognize me
even if I cannot be seen.

You will know me in different ways
than you know so many others.
You will know me by the timber of the screams heard in my presence
and my wake.
You will know me through a sour smell in the air
that you identity
but cannot repair.

You will know me through the tears you will taste.
You will know me by the crimes committed in my name.
You will know me via accidents
I alternately activate
and appropriate.

You will know me.
You will know me.

You will know me through a dozen drunken sighs
a hundred sunken cries
a thousand pumpkin pies
eaten out of season
– for no reason –
get it, homey?
You will know me.

You will know me
from the things I haven’t yet done
forecast in the wary eyes of strangers.
You will find me
in burnt offerings to forgotten gods.
You will know me
with abandon
and anxiety
and inexactitude
but still, with unerring accuracy.
You will know me.

You will know me.
You will know me.