DEATH Poem: (death is a shy thing), by Tess Ezzy

death is a shy thing
(he does not knock
just lingers
like a hush
between heartbeats)

he is not cruel—
only sure,
only the hand
that closes a book
(softly softly)

no hurry no fuss
just a step into light
or dark
(or neither)
& all the clocks
forget
our names.

but listen—
if you turn just right,
in the hush between rain & silence,
you will hear him breathing
(the way a candle
remembers fire
even when it is smoke).

Author: poetryfest

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