Sally Plumb Plumb
A Humorous Death
to the horizon,
over the edge
is the distance down.
I am over
Falling slow as a feather.
My past passes me,
It is a long way,
In the mortuary of mind
lay my ancestors
arms open and calling.
The dying left in me
will not speed its entirity
towards the inevitable.
My ancestors are laughing now.
glad that I am released
from the restrictions of being.
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Comments about this poem (A Humorous Death by Sally Plumb Plumb )
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