My birthday is someone’s death day.
I am sure of this.
I imagine a throng of mourners
Faithfully crowding around
The hospital bed where a loved one
Lies attached to monitors and IVs.
The loved one’s body appears to be
As much flesh as it is machine,
Like something from a
Science fiction movie.
Family and close friends huddle
Around the bed. Their bodies
Acting as palisades, protecting
Against encroaching death.
Naively they believe that they can
Block death from entering their
Loved one’s body, or perhaps
Their suffocating presence
Is able to choke death out
Of their loved one’s lungs.
A. J. Hayes
Give a poet a pen