In the City of Death
janine canan
Vacationing in the city of Death,
where people come to be burned to ash
and swept back to the holy river;
asleep in my hotel bed surrounded
by thousands of pointing temples
dedicated to Lord Death --
I dreamed you died.
And started to steer my course back
to find out if you had left any word -- for me.
There was no reason to believe you had --
long ago I heard your heart click shut.
Then silence noisily devoured you.
When you drop your cryptic body,
Naked Spirit, where will you go --
will you ever return with some final word?
