|Death stands by his closet dressing.|
He checks his date book. Twice.
Death dresses in black like a cat burglar,
slinks over the sill
shrinks from the ones with fear
strikes from behind.
Death puts on a red party dress
to dance and fling and lift
in a tango for those with ties.
He lets the refrain play twice.
Death dresses in wedding white
a proud approach with open arms
embraces the ones so weary
they run to meet him.
But for me, death wears a rainbow
a shimmering collage of times.
I pick a strand, unravel, follow
reach its abrupt end.
--Martha J. Eshelman