death be not proud though some have called thee mighty and dreadful for thou art not so for those whom thou think st thou dost overthrow die not poor death nor yet canst thou kill me thou art slave to fate chance kings and desperate men and dost with poison war and sickness dwell and poppy or charms can make us sleep as well and better than thy stroke why swell st thou then one short sleep past we wake eternally and death shall be no more death thou shalt die stay that s what mothers say when their sons and daughters go away they say stay my mother said go so i wasn t there the night she fell out of her wheelchair so frustrated that she amputated her own legs or rather tried to with a steak knife her life leaking out on the white floor blossoming like roses in the snow our relationship was an anthem composed of words like gotta go so we went and sent our regards on postcards from other places we d been with stories about all the things we d seen that s how it was with you and i why say good bye when we could still write but then it took your hands we should ve practiced our goodbyes because then it took your eyes and i was somewhere in the middle of nowhere watching the sun rise over a stop sign placed down the center line of a highway filled with sudden turns for the worse running back home cause i gotta play nurse gotta figure out which pill alleviates which pain which part of your brain is being used for a boxing bag as your body became a never ending game of freeze tag taking place in an empty playground i was left looking for your limbs in a lost and found and i couldn t set you free so we just sat there our heads bent towards each other like flowers in the small hours of the morning while light wandered in like a warning that time is passing and you right along with it bit by bit every day and all i could say is if i could i would write you some way out of this but my gift is useless and you said no write me a poem to make me happy so i write move pen move write me a bedroom where cures make love to our cancers but my mother just motions to a bottle full of answers and says help me go and now i know something of how a piano must feel when it looks at the fireplace to see sheet music being used for kindling smoke signalling the end of some song that i thought it would take too long to learn now i just sit here watching you burn away all those notes i never had a chance to play to hear the music of what you had to say i count out the pills just to see if i can do it i can t even get halfway through it before i turn back into your son and say stay i could hook up my heart to your ears and let my tears be your morphine drip because maybe it s easier to let you slip away than it is to say goodbye so i hold my breath because in the count down to death the question of why melts into when how much time do we have left because if i knew what i know now then move pen move write me a mountain because headstones are not big enough my mother says stop it write me a poem to make me happy so i write this stay she smiles and says gotta go i know goodbye 2