Death’s Opposition

By James Arbuah                                                                                             Word Count: 112

Irony’s reality
In death’s opposition
What it doesn’t rhyme
Maybe open up and listen
Prints left behind
Hair articulates the bedspread
Warmth outgrown where the pillow forms
The headrest
Obsessed with perfection
Always point your toes
Jettisoned threats when your skin is exposed
The window is open I said I can’t sleep
Decide for yourself
Cover up or let it creep.

Creep.

Death’s opposition
What it doesn’t rhyme
Seconds just to think
Evaluate then deflect mine
Mind erratic soul eclectic
Respect the process then
Or
Divorce self from your eye held head
Neck expressed digits like an outstretched pen
Which finger hurts most if the prints don’t send.

Seconds just to think.


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