Academic journal article Field

Dear Death

Academic journal article Field

Dear Death

Article excerpt

Cool cloak. So goth. I dig how the pleats

ripple like pond water when you move,

and the hood shadows the absence of your face.

Sweet scythe, too. The craftsmanship

of the wooden handle, how smooth the slow

curve. I had to look it up-it's called

the snath (rhymes with wrath), or snathe

(rhymes with bathe). I prefer the latter, the long

a. Snath sounds like an infectious disease

I might've caught if my mother wasn't there

to steer me from the gutter, from large

puddles marbled green, mosquitoes

scribbling above. How many times

do mosquitoes do your dirty work anyway?

Versus fleas? Versus gunpowder?

How bone-tired were you in Tohoku?

The previous year in Haiti? Have you ever felt

the sepia wind of remorse? I have 77 more

questions for you, give or take, you're often

in my thoughts. Yesterday, while grinding

coffee beans. While cleaning the lint trap.

Dicing cilantro. Buying ink cartridges.

Clipping my beard. …

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