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Duel 

A soldier sits, sleeps, breaths. 
She wonders why she fought. 
When people go about their day
without so little a thought. 

Why did I face Death, she thinks-
and the monsters and the war-
to join the princes who have lived
without so little a chore. 

Death has many faces.
Ravens, foxes, sparrows too. 
The blackness of the Thames rises up 
swallows them beneath its dew. 
Drowning, drowning, into your own head.

That's what Death is
a sleep of infinite dread. 
Where do you go? When do you go? 
No time, no space. 
Nothing remains. 
Nothing, nothing, nothing. 

Death stopped for me, lifted his head-
left me to my refrains. 
People searching, looking, thinking. 
But never seeking, feeling, breathing. 
Why? To them it's simply nature. 
And nature has faces, and nature has places. 

And those that prey among the beast
will soon be swallowed by the gale. 
With nothing to think about 
and nothing to feel. 

When you have danced and dined with Death
your skin and veins bleed ink. 
And in your life he leaves behind
his foul scent and stink.

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