Death,
to your delight,
I deny you
it is, indeed,
not I
now, hardly taboo
I see thou teasing me
thy choice,
taunting
in slim ice beneath my coarse heels
in plethora of the needle, thy shadows
raking fellows like sugar maple leaves soul after soul
yet, familiar, I am not afraid
thou roam so near, but our fingers never clasp I do not stop for
you,
I am not afraid
we will, one moon, dance
with thou blessing, none less till then,
I smile to thee brother
as I,
am merely aching for the living.
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Photo by John Bubniak