WHAT WILL DEATH WEAR?
Sometimes in the crevices of
night,
when the only sound is my own
breathing’
I ponder the mystery of death
and what costume
it will wear when it comes
calling
Will it assume the identity
of a tumor
coursing through my body like
a wild stallion?
Will it spring up like a
Halloween prank,
dressed like an embolism
racing upward toward my
brain, only to burst
its arterial boundaries in a
tsunami of blood?
Or maybe it will skim the
streets dressed in metal,
careless as a tropical
monsoon,
oblivious to traffic signals
as it flies unrestrained,
until we meet at an
intersection
Whatever costume it wears,
I will refuse to acknowledge
it
Instead, I will turn my back
And
deny its presence
