last time I checked I was still alive

by Patrick Doyle

loving you one
hundred years ago was like the last
living moment of a piece
of birch before it gets
put on another log to
get shattered by an axe.
loving you thirty years
ago was like the last living
moment of a piece of
ash before being
split by a chainsaw.
loving you today was like
the last living moment of
a piece of beech before being compromised
by a wood splitter.