The night I died

The night I died I didn’t care.
I watched my hair accumulate
beneath, around my bed;
I felt the pillows slip beneath my head…
and my breath went like bellows
tested by their blower.

The night I died no one was there.
My listless eyes transversed the room,
my lips pressed shut –
a silent protest in the gloom.
and I watched with apathetic interest
as my fingers twitched and
stopped.

The night I died the raccoons came.
They bid me farewell,
mating on my skylight -
those masked marauders making
sounds I can’t describe.

I can’t describe them ‘cause I’m dead,
and none was here to hear their
murderous mating song.

Donia Lilly
4 April, 2002