Death came tap-tapping
at my window one night
where a lone lantern was lit
above my windowsill
like a single coal burning
in the belly of night.
Death had a plain enough face
not horrid or frightfully grinning
but only tired and ordinary
as he made the weary last round
at the end of his shift.
I opened my window a crack
to see what he wanted
and he slithered inside like a cool breeze
and he sat on the foot of my bed.
“Worry not, I have not come to collect your whole life’s debt,”
said he, “I have come for only one small payment, you see.”
I did not protest, for these are loans we all must pay,
and my day to die was not that day.
Death reached his gentle hand
inside my chest cavity
and rummaged around
behind my heart
into the pit of my stomach
until he finally grasped
a feeling deep down,
a precious gem of hope
that I had kept well hidden,
and it was this that he pulled out
and he put it in his purse.
“For now this will suffice,” he said,
“I shall leave you to your bed.
Adieu until we meet again.”
and he left through the window as
as quick as he came.
I lay back in my bed both restless and weary
With a draft in my chest
where my treasure had once been.
There the dark it did occur to me
that the lantern light on my windowsill
had gone out along with my payment.
