a cat and a rat
all the poet devices.
i take a few and bleed the pages black,
leech my heart of expectation
and prepare a coffin.
we all do with our work
with houses and kids and monuments
prepare our death for a life well lived.
life has a way of vexing that good death
and makes mockery of our artifices
till we doubt Descartes
and kill our minds with desire
and leave the living to bigger mouths.
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