a good death

When I let go I can see things

I never thought to think to see

The swirls in the lucky stained glass heart

Or the curves within the witch’s ball

The fly who perches upon my glass

Whether he’s licking the salt or craving the lime

All things that I see when I take the time

And sometimes I remember how it felt

Driving down that road with the wind

Blowing furiously, my longish hair, in my face

Sticking to my glossy lips, which smile

When I touch them because life,

In spite of itself, is more beautiful

Than its hardness that once petrified me

And made me bleed from my repentant knees

If just for a little while

But death is so good

When it clears the way for

Sticky lips and glassy curves

And stained, swirling glass

That always, always makes me smile

For

No reason other than,

Being beautiful, being lucky...
being blissed