Tagging Death: a Poem Beginning with a Line by Heather Christle
I know that death is a tower
standing in the middle of the town.
I could walk past its looming silence
with my head bowed, eyes averted,
but, instead, I wave a cheery hello,
paint a scrawl of bright yellow poetry
on its deepest-darkest-night walls,
on my way to work, to play, to rest;
for what's the point of avoiding
the inevitability of finality,
when you can use its existence,
its presence, metaphorical or literal,
to stay focused on living life
with as much intensity and passion
as you can while you still can?
My one-sided game of tag will
end someday, perhaps tomorrow.
Then again (Tag! You're it!), perhaps not.