Visiting My Own Mortality (A Dream Of Childhood) Poem by jackilton peachum
Visiting My Own Mortality (A Dream Of Childhood)
Alone in the bathroom at midnight--
Death opens the door and enters, pushes in--
puts down his scythe,
stops at the sink to wash his hands
(not as tall as I had expected)
lathering the bony fingers.
my own face reflected in the mirror,
peering back at me
--under the black hood his lips grinning--
I wake in the bedroom,
my feet out of the covers,
my toes tickled by a freshet of cold air.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/3/2024 1:39:39 PM # 1.0.0.1119
