I Dreamt Of Death

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Cover image: Dimitar Donovski on Unsplash.

Submitted: October 30, 2019

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Submitted: October 30, 2019

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I Dreamt Of Death

 

I dreamt of death.

At first, the identity of the corpse

remained a mystery,

but curiosity over-ruled my reluctance

to approach a cadaver.

Maybe I had some inkling,

some clue,

as to who I was about to view;

for laid out in an open coffin

I stared back at myself

with empty eyes.

No mourners gathered,

there was not the show of pretend grief;

and for that I was thankful,

for crocodile tears would have been

the pinnacle of hypocrisy.

They gathered in trees

with a mournful caw,

dressed in black feathers of corvidae custom;

and one by one they swooped,

they dropped.

Wings outstretched, my dead body

engulfed and covered by feathers on wings that flap,

beaks that tap.

There’s no horror in my mind,

just a dull acceptance,

until, as they begin to disperse

in a cawing cacophony,

I see to my extreme delight

that the coffin is empty of all but the tiniest

drips

of blood.

They’ve taken me away with them,

dispersed to the wind

and at last

allowed

to fly.

 

 


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