The Thief Poem by Daniel Y.

His spiders like hands
waited patiently.
And the glimmer-wall
Spun around you,
into a coffin.
Like a dropped jar of jam,
raspberry spread over you
and the cabin like crumpled paper.

Having seen death and dying
and lived on,
(bodies on the way to school
and in streets and on corners)
I never really knew death
Til he stole from me.
Mother unmoving haunts.

Your death was more than death.
It was robbery.
Mom.