Why talk of the unknowability of death?
Nonsense. Let me tell you what death is.
She will never think of you.
Not out of spite,
Nor because she doesn’t want to.
While your body is cremated
You let your heart burn first,
And keep your eyes open
Waiting in vain
To see her one last time
In that final frozen moment
You will see that you were wrong
It was indeed spite
That kept burning her heart
In that final frozen moment
You smile at something else
At the glory of dying
At the gift of being forgotten
Let this life pass over me
You sigh. Murmuring thank you.
To your mother and father.
This is death. Don’t waste it.
