Here, On the other side of the page
where lost days go,
where lost poems go,
where forgotten dreams
are breaking up like morning fog.

Go.....
Go.....
Go.....

I am preparing myself for death.

I am teaching myself emptiness;
the gambler's hunger for love,
the nun's hunger for God,
the child's hunger for chocolate
in the hours of darkness.

I am teaching myself love;
the lean love of marble kissed away by rain,
the cold kisses of snow crystals on granite grave markers,
the soul kisses of snow as it melts in the spring.

Here, on the other side of the page
I lie making a snow angel with the arcs of my arms.
I lie like a fallen skier who never wants to get up.
I lie with my poles, my pens flung around me too far
in the snow to reach.

The snow seeps into the hollow of my bones
& the calcium white of the page deposits me
in like a fossil.

I am fixed in my longing for speech,
I am buried in the snowbank of my poems,
I am here, where you find me........

Dead-

SAS