There are many ways to die.
You could die a different way each day,
if you were a cat, and the accountants
were not paying attention - but you're not,
and they are.
You could die three hundred sixty-five ways
this year, a different one each day, I assure you.
Death is unique as life is commonplace. Now wait,
you say - it's more than three six five. In one day
you might have a chance to die three times.
But you won't, though. You'll only die once: the rules.
Only once: today, stepping off the curb the wrong way,
your ankle twisted, your head way smack out in the road.
You won't even need a passing car. Swung by your body and neck:
crack! The back of your head,
and from out of the theatre
in stately, bored procession,
on a red carpet life
is leaving the building
while you lie there,
My poor ankle
A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years. Try the RANDOM button to sample the sometimes surprising breadth of quality (and in several Novembers, breathtaking quantity as well), or click the "ANY GOOD" label* for those poems labeled with it. On any poem, old or new, feel free to offer your remarkable insight or critical acumen.
*I haven't yet revisited many pockets and stretches of time to appraise and label the "any goods," so some are missing. Please feel free to point out omissions, or - especially - erroneous inclusions, in comments.