Thursday 18 April 2013


Inspired by a prompt from my friend and fellow poet Maureen Aisling Duffy-Boose.


I am increasingly hopeful
... that when I die
there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth
my relatives will mourn my passing
with deep black and willows,
and at every gathering from now til the
last one standing
will remark, "If only She had lasted just a little longer.
If only we had had her, just one more day."
For on my deathbed I intend to say
- as my last words, with my last gasping wheeze -
"The box where I keep my money is buried...."
and the death rattle will leave them baffled
and yearning
and missing me, wishing me, alive again.
Just long enough to finish....


1 comment:

Binary Worrier said...

But, but you promised me you'd never die!