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.