Monday, June 28, 2010


Death wears many masks
It comes laughing like a wave
Takes you feet first
Into the water
Ducks you under
To see if you can remember
How you breathed when you lived there.
It lies waiting like a pond
Still and alluring
Reflecting the blue of the skies
Sometimes without even the whisper of a ripple
As weeds with a foot fetish
Dance in the bed.
It flows like a holy river
With a hoary past
Certain of its purpose
Mindful of its reputation
For washing away sins
And sinners
When it can.

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