Denise Levertov: Clouds
as if death had lit a pale light
in your flesh, your flesh
was cold to my touch, or not cold
but cool, cooling
Stephen Dobyns: Laugh
What he wished was to have his ashes flushed
down the ladies’ room toilet of Syracuse City Hall,
which would so clog the pipes that the resulting
blast of glutinous broth would douse the place clean
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: On My Walk to the Hospital, Death
Death in the fog, all silver
& grisaille as it wreathes
& muffles children in the park.
Connie Post: How to Sort the Living from the Dead
Forget all the nonsense
about eyes opened or closed
or breathing
or brain waves
Elizabeth Romero: So, Mr Death
So many I’ve lost; I see them
Down a long corridor the door open
To a bright snowy day.
Elizabeth Jacobson: Welcome
When I get to the hospital I see that someone has sent my grandmother a big bouquet of pink roses and the card reads: Welcome. Nana laughs and sticks the … Continue reading
Doug Anderson: Death
Death is sitting at the foot of my bed. “Get up,” she says. “The sun is out and the horses are waiting for grain. Besides, love will blindside you again … Continue reading