written December 2008
You met your death at midnight across a campfire.
You took its hand and pulled it close.
You imagined it was your friend.
You told it how beautiful it was.
You courted your death in a meadow in the sunlight.
You picnicked with it under a wedding canopy.
You looked into its face and spoke its name aloud.
You painted its portrait on tablecloths and bedsheets.
You hung your death like a banner from the rafters.
You sat on the floor like a child and watched it swing.
You told us how you died.
We cried for your empty eyes.
You renounced your death at dusk across a campfire.
You built its funeral pyre with steady hands.
You fed your death to the hungry flames.
We sat with you while you watched it burn.
You cried for your death.
You are alive.