At Night As You Lay Sleeping

At Night As You Lay Sleeping

At night as you lay sleeping in my bed,
I lay wakeful, close beside you
in a landscape grey and shapeless,
picturing how Death might appear.

At first I saw Death at a rich man's party,
discreetly camouflaged in grey Armani;
blink and you could miss him.
If you're quick enough you glimpse him
melting through a crowd to reach an indoor pool
where some poor sap with too much drugs
and liquor thinks fondly of a midnight dip.

But later I began to think he might be dressed
as some French cleric in a black soutane,
so he can travel anywhere unhindered,
always hurrying to reach a fresh pandemic
breaking out in the Sudan.

Some way I can't say how, my instinct tells me
I should hurry down into the garden.
Clad only in a dressing gown I stand there
glowering at all the weeds I'd meant to kill.
Distantly I hear a sound that swells
into a throaty roar, as down the street
a superbike comes racing; suddenly it's braking,
burning a rubber scar for thirty feet at very least.
Our garden gate swings open as a biker enters,
dressed like any other rider in black leathers.
He lifts his visor to reveal his sunken eyes,
his rotting teeth, a hole but formerly a nose.
Seeing my disgust he leans in closer,
'Tell me, boy, was you expecting something less?'

I think it wiser to stay silent.
From his jacket he pulls out a knife,
and cuts the strings that tie me to this earth.
To my surprise I feel as if some weight
I didn't know was there has just been lifted.
Death shows no interest, as he slides the knife
into his jacket, climbs aboard his bike,
and opening his throttle wide,
he rockets off in clouds of dust, his attention
fixed already on his next appointment.

I am a kite, cut free of ties, and carried upward
by high winds, deep into an outer darkness,
somewhere I can find no doubts or fears, no tears,
no second chances, stolen glances, parting kisses.
A kite is servant to a different master,
carried swiftly by the solar winds,
somewhere far beyond this little world.

Do not grieve for me, my lover.
Not for long shall we be parted.
Autumn bids the wind blow stronger.
Soon your kite shall follow, dancing.