Drag

What's left us, but the drag and drop
of steady days and hours ground
too fine like teeth clenched
in the night, a slow and tepid
decline as if a decadent,
empire, fires buried under ash and cooled
by inevitable thermodynamics.

Years flow like prairie,
a curved horizon
with the end just out reach,
and the stars will fade
through exhaustion at lack of love
the universe cool and spread,
shadows deepen
and in the end, little is left
but our next steps
our next days
through plains and hills turned brown
in autumn, undisturbed
and unremarking
at our passing.