wb :

Life sucks life from the living
in the living of the life -
a collection of comforts that can't last
(like kites and grades and friends)
and a miscellany of miseries that don't
end, but are surprising in themselves.

Life sucks life
from the eyes that don't shine
and the lungs that fail -
inhale exhale cough choke sputter
repeat -
and the ears that resonate with jarring silence.

Death is kind -
it does its job,
scythes the soul,
gets its due;
and once it's done it doesn't end
and what is eternal doesn't hurt,
doesn't surprise,

doesn't change like life, the salamander,
slipping out of your hands,
writhing free leaving a little pile of warm-

and you can't wash your hands of life
the salamander.

Labels: poetry