i see death

i see death in everything.

it suckles at the trees

their bark peeling

like rotted flesh.

it marches in the people—

those wax puppets with coin

slot eyes. moving like zombies

toward the red jaw of a stoplight.

death is a bruise

on the apple cheek

of toddlers. a worm coiled under

their pink gums.

it froths in the mouths

of puppies

all that joy

foaming

so stupid

so ready

to be snuffed

like a match in wet wind.

old men hobble through

morning like

rusted marionettes

bones clacking

they smell of hospitals

of linen folded over faces.

even beaches are carcasses.

the waves are just breath

coming and going

gasping like some

already drowned

thing.

the horizon bleeds

thick and menstrual—

over a sea that buries

what it loves.

i see it in mountains too

hunchbacked

ulcerous with snow.

they loom like dead gods

magnificent—

rotting under the sun’s

surgical light.

i see it in my boyfriend

in the green pool of his eyes—

eyes that will someday

look at someone else.

we kiss like people exiting.

i see it in the sink

the hair i shed in clumps.

and in the mirror too—

how my mouth

looks more like a wound

the older i get.

everything around me is rotting

peacefully. even the tulips in their pretty

beds reek of something

sweet and sour.

even joy walks with a limp.

i was born with a bruise inside me.

it’s just now beginning to blossom.