NAPOWRIMO # 2 write a poem predicting your own death.
Peaceful I will go.
I will die at home, as I sleep, on a Friday.
That is how I want to go.
Let me slip uneventful into the underworld.
Sprites and angels and heavenly bodies welcome me
with open arms and mellifluous voices.
Let me cross the dark abyss on a sailing ferry
complete with all my favorite niceties.
From escargot to wine and books….
From Paganini to shoes and lamb.
The risen lamb. The only lamb.
Let me sail away with these things gambolling behind my eyes.
Let the smell of the sea be the last I draw in.
Let the waves gently rock me back and forth.
No fanfare needed.
No CSI. No NCIS. No “CLEAR.”
Just silence and a gentle release of my hand.
Peaceful is how I want to go.
I want to die at home, as I sleep, on a Friday.