DEATH Poem: In My Room, by Anna Broome

In my room
My Lover turns
From a god to a man
To a god again
Seconds before
His mortal life ends

In my room
Dozens of eyes
On shelves
Reading versions of virgins
To themselves

In my room
Some of my bones
Are machine made
And some are home grown

In my room
My heart
beats to beat the dark
First and again

In my room
All my words
fist into fractions
In time for language to end

In my room
I turn the lord into “gold”
Weigh it, price it
And it is sold

In my room
Sunlight is slain
And turned to shade
Under the world is laid

In my room
My lover came
As dust
Returned as Ashes
No Earth

In my room
I regress
Making a womb
Out of this room.

In my room
My life suspends
in silence
A rage for men

This is my room.
I don’t mind.
I make it;
Afterall,
It is mine.