Sleep Death*

Sleep Death

I shall wrap myself
tightly-
in the flight of night
we know as sleep

So noisily shall my
Silence prey upon
the nether world

That there will be moved mourning
complete with water
flushed from the soul
and dribbling frome the eyes.

There will be, at the funeral
an old aunt Harriet
Shouting why, and why, and why?
turning to the
priest
as if he were a comfort station-

and the priest shuffles feet and
bows his head

Knowing that he should
comfort,
but in living, mortal fear
of his own vague doubts.

And the friends,
priding themselves at their grand expressions
of grief-
will have words for one another

"I don't understand"
"Ijust saw him last week"
"He was just beginning to understand"

I pray there may be one
brave soul
with widened eyes
and frightful
to slam shut my lid-
and say
"stick him in the ground,
he is dead!"

and storming from the room
mutters one breath of word

"Thank God I'm alive."