death is an accident, all the times
ill as I was, I might have died & didn’t
like days the sun might have blazed
in cloudless sky, yet gray rain came
peaceful the rain, like fruit ripening
like cats purring inside my ear
like nursing, my son’s hand opening
fingering closing on breast’s flesh
his suck depleting my ailing self
the way a downspout swallows rain
I would eat the banana on the shelf
beside me, then the bread, gobs
of sweet butter — life gave me sons
they fed me, taught me why to live
No comments:
Post a Comment