Brok3n’s Reviews > 100 Selected Poems > Status Update

little tree
little silent Christmas tree
you are so little
you are more like a flower

suppose
Life is an old man carrying flowers on his head.

young death sits in a café
smiling, a piece of money held between
his thumb and first finger

...

But I think I see someone else

there is a lady, whose name is Afterwards
she is sitting beside young death, is slender;
likes flowers.

. . . . the Cambridge ladies do not care, above
Cambridge if sometimes in its box of
sky lavender and cornerless, the
moon rattles like a fragment of angry candy

how do you like your blueeyed boy
Mister Death