I Have Seen Death

Sometimes it occurs to me

That I have seen death

Not in profound moments

Or sunk in a brown study

But mid-smile, drinks with friends

Reading about strangers’ trauma

At my desk, where sitting kills.

Yes. I’ve been there when it happens

Seen that folding crumpling moment

When the mouth goes rubber-slack

And the soul slips off its hook-

Rising through the ceiling

Or sinking through the boards-

And I’ve almost met my own

Apparently.

At seven through the coffin glass

My mother’s mother, powdered doll

With those starchy eighties sleeves

And flowers deader than she was.

Sometimes still I seek the Reaper

While living like my own ghost

How long can you live underwater

Before forgetting how to breathe?

Silly games of dare-or-dare

(Though we are no longer courting)

Because we’ve grown up together.

Lurking through the fever haze

Skulking in the box room.

Curled beside me in the womb.

He’s the only friend

Who’ll always be there.

I don’t tattoo my skin because

My soul’s stained with my story.

Death won’t like me for saying this

But he’s really nothing special.

His eyes contain forevers

But he looks like you or me.

Maybe we’ve grown over-familiar

Maybe that’s why all that scares me

Is dying unfulfilled

Is dying completely unknown.