WE DIDN’T GET USED TO DYING

WE DIDN’T GET USED TO DYING
 
We didn't get used to dying, though our death, like an old husband
lies close to us and his arm, as if asleep
carelessly hugs the thickness of our hip
and as we turn our back he asks something
and at first is answered with a hum and a yawn
until we are entwined with him in the desired pleasure
and he breathes heavily like one calling for war
and bone against bone comes close making noise
till falling down in silence.

WE DIDN’T GET USED TO DYING