1-12 Death



Death is not a hooded skeleton,

riding a pale horse,

scythe bone-knuckle gripped,

sockets wide as lunar craters,

and teeth gleaming like ashen tombstones

under the arc of a massive crescent moon.


Death is when we would sooner bask

in the shadow of the cross,

than venture through slivers of light

at each crossroad on our journeys.