the best husband I've ever had
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#88 the best husband I've ever had
I am a married woman
whose husband is Death.
My husband, Death,
kisses me on the lips
before going to work,
picking up a suitcase full of obituaries,
gently shutting the door behind himself
as to avoid reminding the neighbors
of the deadlines of their existence,
rattling Azrael’s nerves
who has worked overtime since Creation.
Death has neither beaten me up
nor bribed me,
Death is content knowing
I can never get divorced
or accept a rival for him,
Death tells me that he loves my teeth, skull, and spinal bones madly,
that he’ll always preserve my jaws and delicate wrists
as much as he would a tiny flying dinosaur
named the “missing link”
in his archeological museum of lovers.
Death is so faithful that he will never leave me for another wife,
and he’s so generous that he will grant me all the soil I desire
inch by inch.
Whenever I start feeling nostalgic by living on earth
Death points me to the wings slung over the doorsill,
whispering: “Contemplate flight.”
I am a mortal woman.
"And nothing can we call our own but death
And that small model of the barren earth
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings." W. Shakespeare
"And what the dead had no speech for, when living,
They can tell you, being dead: the communication
Of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living." T.S.
Eliot
"While man is growing, life is in decrease;
And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb.
Our birth is nothing but our death begun." Edward Young
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"Men are never really willing to die except for the sake of freedom:
therefore they do not believe in dying completely." Albert Camus
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