She visits me:
The harridan of death
That Banshee bitch.
She whispers
“I’m right here, you know.”
and she cackles like
leaves in late fall.
Sometimes on the road
a close call
an inattentive moment
she whispers
“Just like that.
Poof! Gone.”
Or in the shower
with warm water making
me dozy and incautious
she teases
“How about now?
A little fall. A broken hip.
It will only hurt a little while.”
I keep putting her off,
but she’s less easily distracted
these days,
and I’m
afraid
I might run out of tricks
and hiding places
and get-out-of-jail-free cards
before
I am ready
to quit playing the game.
