Death

Before I die
if I fall prey to some disease
I shall like it.

If the wind sears my skin
If a yellow nest is built in my eyes
If the acrid fumes
that rise from baked bricks
make it difficult for me to breathe
I shall like it.

An hourglass filled with sand
stands between
my diseases and me.
And even as I try
to find the keys to my cupboard
if the evergreens bloom
in my blood
I shall like it.

The pale moon would come
to stay in the cavities of my bones.
Flies would buzz
over my bleached fingers.
And grass would sprout through my nails.
I would like that a lot.
Like the hero of The Seventh Seal
if I were to play
a game or two with myself
and if the pawns in the game of chess
were to refuse to move
I would not like it at all.

But even as I make my move
in the game of chess
my younger sister stands by my side
holding a mug of coffee.
When they are whitewashing
the walls of my house
just then
if my doorbell rings
I shall really love it

Love it a lot.

DEATH