Death
The end sees the reverse
the baton passed, becoming
A broom to sweep
away
its sweet victim
lost
in sleep
As the flame becomes frozen--
forever a frigid flicker
A snap shot.
time is stone now.
At last.
See the see saw tilt
Like the wilt of the spinach
Decaying as excess.
And no longer is activity
A hive of burning embers
Entombed in cells walls
That let through the very thing
Of life.
In its place comes the pillage
Floor boards ripped up
Nails loose
No longer.
Air is no more a light necessity.
Freedom from breath
As rot gives back
When the mould is broken.
All players go back to what they truly are.
Life is a great game.
Juggling
escaping
Always paying
Through the nose
The lips.
Hips and spines
And their skin line binds
All go--
In the second, mini life
The perverse biology
That sings like a mother
Calming her child to go--
Rest
