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Deathbed
Allan Lake

I died in my sleep last night,
dreamt Death was escorting me
to Nowhere, which isn’t a place 
so probably does not rate 
a capital letter. Death takes 
young things, takes the old 
every single day. Unlike God, 
doesn’t even take a day off.
Busy no-body, sometimes rough 
debt collector. I wasn’t happy 
about dying but there’s no come-
back when enforcer Death says, 
Come, so I didn’t make a fuss.

Much less trouble than birth.
No discomfort, drafts, blinding 
lights, rough handling, unwelcome 
kisses, voices speaking in tongues. 
Death is dreamless sleep without 
discomfort or needing to piss.

Awakened by loudmouth alarm,
I felt short-changed. Effort required 
to defeat ‘To Do’ list on the fridge. 
Grocery shopping, dental appointment.
Death, laconic beast/new acquaintance, 
was yet to undertake its obligatory visit. 
Till then I have mundane things to do.

Allan Lake, originally from Saskatchewan, has lived in Vancouver, Cape Breton, Ibiza, Tasmania & Melbourne. Poetry collection: Sand in the Sole (Xlibris, 2014). Lake won Lost Tower Publications (UK) Comp 2017, Melbourne Spoken Word Poetry Fest 2018 and publication in NewPhilosopher 2020. Latest chapbook (Ginninderra Press 2020) My Photos of Sicily.

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