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Compostable Dust

October 14, 2017
tags: ,

I imagine death
socking me
as I change lanes,
my hair flying as
it did in my youthful dancing

I imagine death
dulling me
as I lounge
watching war and weather casualties
on the tv news

I imagine death
calling to surprise me
while I stretch in yoga class
earnestly trying to reach

I imagine death
as I count what years I have
possibly left
and know more deeply
that I am compostable dust.


One Comment leave one →
  1. November 11, 2017 9:56 pm

    This is a really good poem. Brings a smile. Thanks, Joan

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