I hope death is a woman - a big, beautiful, black woman, who will instruct me on the ways of the crossing-

            “Before the union,
              is the mingling
              of your suffering and joy
              shuffled with your then and now
              most true in the ways you were
              never right or wrong,
              only anxious in your loving
              better.”

And I will defend myself with my wisest words –

“Amazing!
  Though I’d never practiced,
  I knew to kiss you right there.”

and-

“There is so much terror in this life,
  prayer is bound to be effective.”

and-

“Don’t make it small. Make it round
  and sweet, like all good fruits.”

and-

“Even the most sincere privilege,
  a poet’s fame,
          will not save me from death.”


I believe she will smile, touch her finger to my forehead, and permit my disappearance, into that wet, wet love that holds your longing as you undress.