Imagining My Own Death
Even the six year old will die
And will have always been dead
Almost as long as I.
I try on many deaths
Ones with a suit – not likely
Or naked in the tub with soap
between my toes
or sitting in someone else’s
geography with the curtains closed
The air will disappear then the whole
surprise of dreaming
that I’m drowning
and drawing away and the echo
of my words said aloud (or not)
Well
All is
Oh well
12 thoughts on "Imagining My Own Death"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
of echos and death-
borrowed breath
is only air.
wonderful.
Oh well and oh well… beginning and ending and beginning again.
Even death you can make playful, sir! Another excellent poem you share with us.
Well done!
Playful, perhaps, but finely crafted imagery and diction. The thudding D sounds feel like vibrations from far away, or perhaps the knocking.
I like to pretend the “surprise of dreaming/ I’m drowning” is now, what we get to draw away from.
good to hear others are imagining their possible forms of departure. love the last three lines
Shew–chills. This poem speaks volumes.
I’m completely drawn into this cocoon of creative dying. Agree with Shaun – chills and kudos.
Memento mori, Friend. I love the interjection of the “not likely” in there. I cannot imagine you as one to wear your “death coat in summer!”
intriguing concept
I’ve worked with this myself
Love all the “d” sounds that describe death: disappear, dreaming, drowning, drawing (away). Oh well.
That ending. All of it.
Love it.