No one likes to talk about dying
I don’t think that’s fair
People are dying right now
And they deserve recognition,
A new achievement unlocked

We have two things in common
Before we know their names
If living demands dying
Death commands life

I want to talk about dying
The transformation of your face
To an idea
Like the picture of me on a motorcycle
Smiling to a curve
Will they remember the freedom
Or their fear of it

Mortality the thief
Three years, two grandfathers
Surviving spirits, knives and pins in my dresser
And when I see a pool table
And when I see an antler mount
And the dreams they’ve visited

Fox has cancer now
I’m watching my closest friend
My weirdo confidant, the Roswell refugee laying in the bathtub
Withering to his hips, scared of his shadow
While his shadow fills him in

We used to make jokes
About the pandemic of men in their thirties
Sticking their heads in the oven
Knowing there was other options
Would they have committed if they knew
Sylvia Plath did it first?

Maybe they were trying to be poetic
No one told them that
A poetic suicide is a long life