right hand pointing

   

 

 
 

Death is Just that Place Down the Street
 



Sail me toward Heaven

Mother.  Dream

me toward my death.

I connect to nothing earthly

now, still ripe above

the neck.  My hair is grey,

my eyes are lined,

I like the proof I’ve been

here.  Another pain

awaits me sure.  Let it come

with all its lights on.

 

 

 

 

 




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