You Disappear

by John Stocks


The year is dying
Languorously, indifferent.
Half-blinded it leaks
Darkness and dripping ruin.

Clouds merge then separate,
Uneasy harbingers of
Death’s slow incubation,
Curling into empty space.
Like the smoke from my own cremation,
There is a kind of beauty in it.

You, however, do not die
You keep your disappearance clean
As a fork of lightning;
Your time, sliced and severed
Swifter than a guillotine.

You do not die
Just disappear;
One moment oozing life,
The next, no longer here.


Copyright © 2010 by John Stocks

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