I just reviewed this site…no less than six posted poems since January have to do in some way with death, which is strange, because as I grow older, and as I experience the deaths of others close to me, death has become a part of life. But when I was young, I was haunted by a pervasive fear of death. Either I dealt with it ironically, as here, or aggressively, as in the following verse from 1965:
I know you, Death, you cannot hide.
It’s most unseemly to be weak.
Come out – I shall be satisfied
With only – call it – “morticide”.
Since that your moving finger writ
Your name in blood upon my cheek,
My honor’s called out for revenge –
You must be made to answer it.
You shrink, my friend? Is that a twinge
Of fear on your unmanly brow?
I am Immortal – I have died.
You must be made to answer now.