Death, Mostly

Unaware the world burns

she dances,

the wind nipping at her heels 

salivating with unbridled want–

she’s glorious.

But everyone in this humid room of strangers knows

that wonder is born from expiration.

So drink the milk before it goes sour

stomp your feet, 

clap your hands,

dance– the arthritis is lurking.

1, 2, 3  1, 2, 3

The heart monitor races

as I contemplate 

ephemeral beauty

and cigarettes

with warning labels only legible 

once it’s too late.

She stopped 30 years ago–

her granddaughter believing smoke-breathing dragons

lived only in fairytales,

but now I know 

death and dying are for everyone.

It used to be a choice

to breathe in smoke

but these days May showers aren’t heavy enough,

and flowers become covered with summer’s snow–

nature’s reminder,

delight in the honied sun

before it blisters.