Poem: How about no.

You'll be my last word,
left unheard and unrecorded
and it will never fit into your view of
everlasting posterity.
It's not monumental enough,
not anarchic enough.

It's closer to the nerves than
you ever care to express,
it clenches vertebrae into knots
and leaves no room for your
escape-artist tricks to be done.

And I forgot to mention.
I hate your laugh.