we make death
a dishonorable thing.
something
you ought to be
ashamed
about.
something
like nudity.
like pain
or homelessness.
like words
that came out wrong
or pants
that don’t fit
or a sneeze you couldn’t
to hold.
“bless you”
they say,
for keeping up the lie
that restraint beats death,
that you ought to
control
yourself endlessly.
most go out
without ever letting go
to live.
letting go
to humor.
to humility.
see,
the world stands
because
it’s always falling.
drop your pants
once in a while.