Tag Archives: dying

death as a post

death wears a
merciful face
when it comes
courting
the moribund

but expect no
bouquet of
sweet-smelling
roses or frosted Cupid
cards sent by mail

there lies a jackal’s face
behind the mask

full well is the intent
of healing decay

yet in conclusion
death wears a
conciliatory face
the end of
suffering
a welcome gift
no matter that
its special delivery
should
bring


last legs

after checking
into the exit lounge
my mother
suggested
a walk outside
the day bitterly
cold, even for
late autumn
and the wind icy
unperturbed
she struggled
ever onwards
despite the
dire conditions
i plan to do
a lot more of
this, she said
now, i’m here
with her scarf
wrapped up
around her face
she looked
like a noble
peasant woman
of the steppes
which many lives
ago she had
once been
and yet although
it was never
my place
to correct her, no
not even now
i never saw
my mother
walk
again