“And I will show that nothing can happen more beautiful than death.”
Walt Whitman
I’ve lived next door to
death for years and
never met him.
He is a good neighbor
always keeps to
himself
no loud parties
no rap music in
the middle of
the night I always
know when
I find his socks in
the dryer they are
robust with sharp
hungry toes once he
slipped his business
card under my
door and
when the rain
came left me a blanket to
keep the flood
now
I look for
him beneath
bearded graves on
hoarse
nights the closer he
seems the further away.
death lives
next door to
me
the radiant portrait of
a future
life.
(c) jayne lyn stahl
