In Death
Death comes close in the night
when shadows grow and sleep envelopes, relaxing guards
who snore slumped in corners
their spears and shields useless on the ground,
their dinner crumbs of cheese and bread
just laying there for the rats to nibble.
Amid the sleepers and nibblers Death glides
like a mist; oppressive and still, and dead
leaving a taste, a scent, an air of such an otherness.
The rats scurry off
and the sleepers shift within their dreams
caught, held and slowly suffocated
till the last breath of Life is gone...
Then what does Death do?
The old shapeshifter wakes
and puts on the face of day.
(first published in my 4th book of poems BEGINNER'S MIND, 2019)
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