Death comes to visit me
Often, like an ugly stray cat
Coming uninvited into my back garden.
I go out to water the azalea bush and
There it sits in the middle of the lawn,
Staring me down with unyielding yellow eyes.
It finds the cracks in my walls and sneaks
Into the house, walks through my rooms,
Makes my favorite seat his, stares into
Me: Are you thinking about me? I say,