I Cannot Say
Born 1946
Is it a better death in any significant way
to leap from a fiery hell?
I'm sure I cannot say.
Than to feel the daisy-cutter's slashing scythe
cut through flesh and frame?
I'm sure I cannot say.
Or to glance as your smart-bombed roof of slate or rock
collapses and crushes your bones?
I'm sure I cannot say.
Do you prefer the bullet boring through your head
passing swiftly through brain and puss?
I'm sure I cannot say.
Perhaps the gleaming thrust of knife to gut attracts,
the romance of blood in dust?
I'm sure I cannot say.
Cleansing fingers on your throat, clenching in neighborly hate
when comity has fled?
I'm sure I cannot say.
To die in bed? Knowing you've lost your mortal friends,
foes and kin alike, all dead?
I'm sure I cannot say.
In a fearful land of loneliness and pain
Death will surely have its way.
That I can say.
DayPoems Poem No. 3
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/3.html">I Cannot Say by Timothy Bovee</a>
The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor
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