Rigor Mortis
I must have died,
but when -- I don't recall.
Some year, some day,
some crucial moment
came and went unnoticed,
upstaged, perhaps,
by a grocery list
or too-tight shoes.
A quiet time later, though,
when the world was out to lunch,
I thought of you --
and nothing happened.
No sprangling pain
felt keenest in the palms,
no paucity of breath,
no gallop in the veins.
Instead -- surprise,
a leaning toward regret,
then numbness all.
Still, I might a Lazarus prove
to word of yours --
but lacking that,
what wants of dying now
is just the public part.
Copyright © June Fredman | Year Posted 2005
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