Arlene Corwin Poetry

     I Think On Death

I think on death,

And as I think, my breath

Goes in and out and in

Without a pause. By twos

The time we have to win

Contracts as we choose

Paths, aware, like now,

That we will die – the how,

Where to and when – a secret

Between fate and God. Sweet

Faces, sweeter bodies get

Out of my eyes. The heat

Of all your breaths must stop,

End, cease, a new crop

Of those finite races’

Beauteous creations rise.

This clinging – faces,

Bodies, all the ties,

Is, in itself the ill

To cure. Till

Then, buzzing the daily drone,

The nights alone,

There is no door in sight.

©I Think On Death 5. 1969

Birth, Death & In Between; To The Child Mystic;

Arlene Corwin