Wonder If That's Wise

Everybody dies.
Not a surprise.

But though we know the fulsome human
frame and its upholstery accrues
through time familiar evidence of slow-
amassed incarnate crime (rips and sags
and bags from which one may forgivably

surmise inevitable progress toward demise –
un-pornographic thighs, soft stifled cries –
long, reflective sighs – so many strained,
bewildered, wondering “oh my’s” –
giving up whatever one had formerly

decided was the prize – unsuspected
aptitudes for devious disguise – and
a contradictorily stubborn inability to make
up lies), few of us have faced this lack
of ambiguity with cool unblinking eyes.

Wonder if that’s wise.


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