book 13
created by kimberly lindbergs
Death is not necessarily
an old and withered book
with dry pages.
It can be a thousand leaves
of strong and shining text
on a powerful body,
held erect on the vertebrae of a strong spine.
The heart hardly breathes because quietus has been reached,
the torso is like a rock,
the legs are rooted,
the ink is dependable.
If the words of death should be considered faded and
sere - where could be the dignity in dying?
"I am old,"
said the book.
"I am older." said the body.
Cold creeps from the feet upward.
Unlike water, paper
does not freeze or condense into steam.
It does not boil
The book to end all books.
The final book.
After this, there is no more writing
no more publishing.
The publisher should retire
The eyes grow weak, the
light dims.
The eyes squint. They blink.
The world is prey to a failing of focus.
The ink grows fainter but the print grows larger.
In the end, the pages only whisper in deference.
Desire lessens.
Although dreams of love still linger,
The hopes of consummation grow less,
What could be the end of all these hopes and desires?
Here comes the end.
This is the writing of
Nagiko Ktyohara no Motosuke Sei Shonagon,
and I know you to have blackmailed, violated and humiliated my
father. I suspect you also of ruining my husband. You have now
committed the greatest crime -you have desecrated the body of
my lover. You and I now know that you have lived long enough.
