Visitation | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Hudson Valley; Chronogram
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Visitation 

unresting death, a whole day nearer now
From "Aubade" by Philip Larkin

It hovers, like the stink of sulfur or bad blood, wakes you in the night, squats
on the edge of your bed staring into space, unmindful of your sweat, your
knotted fingers or your trembling lips.

It's then the darkness closes over, leaving you gasping for air, staring into
the chasm where no one speaks & nothing moves & you are now, for the
first time, completely, eternally & forever alone.

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