Today
for the first time
I felt my own mortality.
Before, I went through life
deliberately ignoring death and its couriers
absently aware but blind
to the dangers of life.

Today
I realized that life
is nothing but a quest
to escape death
neverending, never ending
until that day
when everything stops.

Before today
I never had to evaluate my life
in a split second
but today I had to remember anything and decide
(not like I had a choice)
if I was ready or not.
Twelve more inches and
who knows what I would be
saying now.

cringing every time they hear my name
as if i am the one to fear.
legless, mindless, callow worms
but we are just children, waiting here
in this stinking wound for our day to
Fly.

when we are older we will grow wings
of intricate cellophane
and leave this festering place.
our six barbed legs to spread disease
were given instead of a heart or brain.

i happened upon a peculiar, bitter soul
she hated me, i knew, but the taste of her skin
was warm and chemical sweet and i
       couldn't resist her.
seven million times larger than i
she was a dangerous plaything.

i watched her cut my brothers down,
out of the air like a frenzied cat, a crazed look
flashing in eyes; she screamed
ad despite my lack of heart and pain
i am sad to think they will never again
Fly.

Is your sky as beautiful as my sky?
Your moon
an antique blade
slicing into a cobalt belly
that was hung there just for us?

Can you see the stars appear
one by one, calling on each other
to come out and shine
for us?
Are you watching?

Can you hear them singing
their sweet song?
The wind must carry it to you.
They're asking if we want to dance
       (again)
like we did that time
when the moon was swollen
and the stars were playing
across our sky.

Did you forget
on that night
you gave me your heart?
I still hold it
as if
it will come alive.

They visited the spot where his soul left his body.
Shot in the neck
Go get Mama
His very last words.
The blood was still there
She was told to wait in the car
Too innocent for such passionate danger.
Mother pressed her hand to the
concrete
Feeling the permanent loss of her only son.

Hundreds packed into that dull
gray church basement
So many unaware of the secrets
That died with him,
that maybe brought them there.
Murmurs of who and how and why
That distant uncle, locked away
Could it be his fault?
A little girl too young to understand
death and violence
Leaves her stuffed friend
To keep him company
Amidst the piles of Hennessy and gold.

Hundreds in procession
Leading the living to that final goodbye.
The city has a way of bringing out the worst in people.
Stone-faced grandmother,
how heavy does her heart feel?
Mother wailing as mothers do
Her worries come to life in this death
Watching as they lowered him
and his treasure
deep into the earth
A part of herself
A part of us all
Buried there.