Death Poem (13 seconds)

This is a poem about death:

In the town I come from there are no timers on the traffic lights. [thirteen] But since I moved to London, I’m getting used to being told- [twelve] when it is most likely, I’ll die. The cars pull in at [ten] and by then there’s only nine seconds. This is usually the time I’d look both ways in vain. [nine] but maybe not today. I’ll pause to change the music I have in [eight] find the right song to walk to.

What hard material is life made of? A carbon expanse, does life have mass? Does it follow the laws of math? (as I smoke, my cigarette subtracts).

[seven].

Is death a part of life? [six]. Are they symbiotic? [five]. Will I know I’m asleep? [four]. -Does a narcoleptic? [three].

Or is death in life? are they transferable states in flux? Am I alive, if so? [two]. [one].

Time to go.

1

2