ode to simplicity

in her grip

i've already started writing my obituary
as if i have any say in what it might read

i've already began putting on the clothes
that i might wear in my casket
as if i know when i will lay in it

i've already written the will for my unborn children
as if i might have any at all

and i've already began digging my grave
as if the earth won't cave in by the time the day comes

death is welcoming and warm
lingering around me always
and stretching it's long fingers in my direction

at any moment she could take me
in my sleep
walking down the street
sitting alone at the dinner table

i've already begun to die
as if i have any idea when it comes