Poem: Death, Yes You've Been Expected

Death, Yes, You’ve Been Expected

Death sometimes steals in quietly
through the porch’s unlocked screen door,
not bothering to knock or announce himself.
He pours himself a mug of coffee from the pot,
helps himself to a spot of hazelnut cream,
grabs a glazed chocolate doughnut,
and seats himself comfortably
within the brown leather recliner, feet up.

Idly, he listens in on the conversation.
Silently, no signs of emotion, his eyes
observe muted words toss back to and fro
around him. He says and offers nothing.
Sits there enthroned
like he has all the time in the world,
no hurries at all, no prior appointment.

Common opinion holds he has a nasty temper,
a sudden, violent side not evident today.
From the opposite corner of the room
he appears to have closed his eyes, feigns napping,
loose hands gently tapping to music
wafting from the system’s stereo,
unaware he’s overstepping his welcome.

Nervously, fingers twist, twine,
wonder when he’ll get down to do his business
or be on his way to come back, visit
this household some unexpected day.
Never mind, in the blink of a moment, he’s gone
and the loved one’s breath has rushed
off in tow with him.
Now we can cry. Alone.

c. February 2006 Darlene Moore Berg