Shadows of lives merge and run together
like an avalanche tearing down a mountain.
Catch it with an open mouth,
clogging up your throat and
spilling nectar on your lips.
Ashes fall like snow, covering the fields
in a soft gray sweater knitted of loved ones.
Train whistles spurt curses
and the car metal crunches
like blackened toast and woodchips.
Mother wears a suede jacket: an impractical
choice for wading deep into the ocean.
The piano sings soprano
as the water reverses
and drenches the sky.
Blood drips down legs from an unknown
disease, red and pulsing with the bass drums.
Make a puddle, make a pond,
make sure to make a splash.
We are all in love with dying.