[ .lying.dead. ]
slender step
on broken, old boards
above a body, short a soul
now treading on water
a dying man
shifting to last heartbeat
treading where ravens dare
in a new darkness
under a cavern of life
under the ocean and over the sky
that space
where I'll be when I weep
for one last moment
the dirt beneath my nails
and water in my hair
lips in my mind
and stars in my eyes
now rain becomes us
filling us and our shortening breath
and I find myself wandering around
within that cusp of mind
yet outside strolling
on newly wet grass
in the green haze of the morning
shift to lying on my back
staring at the wet
and watering sky
hoping for the best
as Raven takes me
� B McLean 1998-99
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