she smiles at death

nothing touches this

it drips of magic

and revenant textures

layered like sheets

of laughing fog

it bends itself

over and over again

like origami jackals

preparing for a feast

I have found it to be

a bit distracting

I have no place for it

in life

so its unrelenting pursual 

finds me unprepared

it's after you too

last stop all passengers off

it can't be bargained with

and it welcomes you in

with a raven’s caw

I wonder if they’ll visit me

when I’m rotten earth

and the dust of my bones 

has brought new life to the soil

will the daisies that bloom

from the sickly hues

of my final work of art

catch their eyes?

will they pluck them

and in the process

take a bit of me with them?

I can only hope

those newly blossomed daisies 

find their way

to the hands

of a lovely young girl

so she can smile

at death