In unthinkable death how do you carry
yourself?
An intimate dialogue with death
Fearless, undaunted.
I admire your grit.

One thin blade, one silken noose
but you want to face the bullet
straight in your heart.
The death should come instantly, because you
want to be witness, your head falling with
grace.

Why did you chase death
whistling on the beach,
taunting the eccentric sky
like muted revenge.

The grave will be too small for you
Your legs sticking out.
Lime burning your eyes.
Turning back the grave diggers may
not like to face your moved earth!