Sympathy for the Reaper

 

death has ten fingers over his face 

waggles them according to algebraic principles

it’s a dull job a human resources stinker

he doesn’t remember how he got it

and human longing is a storm at the window

and his neighbor, birth, sings 

behind the hedges old Viennese love songs

poor bastard, hands covering his eyes

hearing always the Merry Widow Waltz

 

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s