In dead celebrities,
you could almost see death hanging
there in their eyes,
suspended like a waiting
birthday surprise
I see it shrouded now
in photos,
films that once stared
straight through me:
how they missed the beat of their death
by seconds;
but I see it, retroactively.
Marilyn's livid white
of death mysterious
stricken down in her prime
so that there was no time;
no time for makeup,
or mine of expressions
to take hard edges off
foreshadowed signs.
Subcutaneous death,
awaiting eyelid's curtains
to flutter open
one last time-
whirring cameras
they won’t hear again-
Get as close as you want to now,
you know the flash won't bother them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
insightful....and a bit 'creepy' (as death always is) . I see that same 'shadow' on Charlie Sheen....sad how they don't see it, but others do! Nice work... AC