Addis I Poem by Cherie Mort

Addis is a slithering snake with a poison fang
Strumming minstrel of the dead that trods the earth from which he sprang
He's a reaper and a fighter and a lover and a biter
He will turn your skin much whiter than the powder on your face
For, you see, he's out of place

Don't put anything past Addis
He will climb over the lattice
And will enter your house, gratis,
Bringing with him deadly brew
He'll make you drink til you are rotten
While the others have forgotten
And by now have lined your coffin
So it's to the ground, with you!

Addis has no better pastime
Than to come back like the last time
And return, if just to remind
Us that we are nearly gone
All our worldly bits of baggage
Are as valued as a cabbage
To the living as a savage
When put in comparison

We don't like to leave the sunlight
For the dark and bitter worm's bite
But we'll all have to bid good night
When our souls start to depart
For in the dirt there is no chatter
None of all of this will matter
You can be mad like a hatter
When there's wormholes in your heart

But Addis is a kind soul reaper
He's a king and he's a keeper
He is neither slack nor sleeper
When he looks after his friends
But he tucks them all in coffin beds
Puts poisoned kisses on their heads
And finally, he snips the threads
That let their sadness end