Father

You keep yourself so busy 
you don’t have time to die

One day Death will drop in
for a cigarette
for a chat
for a soul,

“I still have so much to do,”
you will protest, 
“I wanted to buy another car
build another house, 
love someone else’s child”

one cigarette span for Death
could last an entire second lifetime,

but you don’t have the menthols He likes,
and it’s starting to snow.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

Poem

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