Thursday, April 28, 2011
before we realize death – Here
She was just sitting next to me last night, we were
laughing about her thick thumbs and why she’s a good masseuse
She talked about going away many times to a place above the sun,
But her proclamations came in between chuckling and jokes
–What is thing called death or passing, thinks the child–
It must mean long lines and thick smoke in a strange building
A procession of hysterical people with snot and they need bibs,
Why is no one telling them to wipe their nose and wash their hands?
Why do we walk toward a stationary boat to play with Grandma?
Why now? She has turned into a mannequin and won’t poke back
They say she is away now, so –away– is no longer amusing
It is the opposite, only, of what I knew as –here–