Death Becomes Her Poem by Martin Lochner

Death Becomes Her



1

The old birds married for forty years
Holding hands and walking the promenade

they seemed content and indivisible
walking together without a word

taking in the last twilight sun
and feeding the seagulls.

2
One morning the old dame was found
To be walking alone

Collecting stubs on the pavement
And uttering the name of her coupling

looking straight in her cataract eye
death seemed very alive

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success