Her death no surprise in some way.
A china doll of porcelain bones,
she ate a few bites of lettuce
and called it lunch.  No amount
of coiffing her carefully colored
hair could hide her fragility.
You knew one fall would shatter
her.  I feared for her aging body
and for my own.

Sometimes I wonder if car crashes
are just nature’s way to purge people
on their way out anyway,
like a big cat waiting for the slowest
antelope, the weakened ready
to be taken.  We choose, in some way,
don’t we, our deaths?  It would take
only a slight swerve of the wheel.