. . . unresting death, a whole day nearer now, . . . From: Philip Larkin “Aubade”

It hovers, like the stink of sulfur or bad blood, wakes you in the night, squats on the edge of your bed staring into space, unmindful of your sweat, your knotted fingers or your trembling lips.

It’s then the darkness closes over, leaving you gasping for air, staring into the chasm where no one speaks & nothing moves & you are now, for the first time, completely, eternally & forever alone.

                  In memory of Neil Lehrman