The Subject Of Death

The subject of death
or standing at night with a lit candle
under my chin in front of a mirror

prevents my humor
from spilling.

The stanza is romantic.
Makes me queasy.

And it's unfair to play
with silver dimes

when the dead
can see no more

nor have the will
to lift their lids.

Had they the capability
to wink & smoke a lid

I'm certain muteness
would reflect their voice

and their hallucinations
would be Dostoievski's.

~~~
Alex Nodopaka May©2012

poem by Alex Nodopaka
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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