Last Whistle of Death
See through drops
I'm protected from
Sitting under this eave
With two and a half cigarettes before I worry
Left
Right about the time where I begin to cry
I hear this . . .
Last whistle of death
Where I envision you sucked up to God
Sucking up to god I think
Then I laugh.
Just my mind
Playing tricks on
You
See through you drops
On my purple toes
God knows
Why you are two hours and seventeen minutes
Late of me understanding
Why my insides are wrenching
My fists clenching
Reaching for anything
Like. . .
Your back,
Your arms,
Your presence walking up the drive way
Close my eyes
I expect your laughter
Like I expect to breathe at least twice a day
I hear
This. . .
Last whistle of Death
Telling me what black gown to wear at your funeral
Where to spread your ashes
or
What to put in your casket
See through you to me drops
Landing on my own
Damp worries
Flimsy branches
Above me
Reminding me
That in order not to hear
The Last Whistle of death
I must first become...
Deaf
But. . .
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