excerpt from "flesh against concrete"

This is an excerpt from a series of short pieces, 3-5 paragraphs long, that I've recently started work on. Flesh Against Concrete is the working title but I suspect it will change. Currently I'm envisioning seven total pieces, but that could also change and probably will. This is piece number four. It's tempting to post all four that are complete thus far but it's best to see how everything develops. I can say that the other three pieces are by turns erotic, dark and disturbing...this one is a bit of an outlier. 

IV.

They keep lists of the last. They keep them on the walls, the tables, the floors. They keep them in the sky and in the ground, in the darkness and in the light. The lists are carved and sung. The lists are written in water and blood, semen and ink.

The last before death: the last book read, the last person touched. The last time making love, the last time cooking a meal. The last food tasted, the last bath taken. The last kiss, the last hug, the last sleep. The last time driving a vehicle. The last time shopping in a grocery store and the last item purchased. The last song heard. The last time rain is felt on skin.

No list is ever erased. There are no boundaries to contain the lists. They swell and shrink, shiver and sink. They change forms and bleed into each other while remaining distinct. Those creating the lists do nothing else. They have their work and think of nothing else. They have light when they need it and darkness when they do not. They have limbs and writing implements, they have flesh and stone. They have vast, empty space and tight, collapsed matter. They have what they need.