What She’s Not Faced

Death tends to look a little gray,
so when she opts to wend her way
into our luscious living fray

she often wears a gaudy slew
as full as she is not of hue
and ornament, so I and you

may not too quickly notice that
she’s soulless as a vampire bat
beneath her many-layered hat.

But we can spot what she’s not faced,
as – rudely, crudely – she lays waste:
Death is always in bad taste.

.