Keith Baker Poet Verse

On Death

Last night I felt the thread
Of the death shroud on my lips.
And my ribs quivered
In their ghastly vacant hole.

And I stole out of the
Night den quickly giving to
Chase those who called me,
Phantoms who summoned and led.

At my bed awaited
A dreary mix of lost souls.
Though their coal ran short
The perfume was drunk in sips.

*

At the tip of mountains
The edge of the sea a trail.
No life, pale life here
Oh, the scenes I've remembered.

And a giver of a
Most fantastic light that I
Never spied nor knew
Of my ever being told.

Was I bold enough
To believe my flower dead?
Succumbed I to the
Power growing in my breast.

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