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More poems by Charles SimicCharles Simic | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by Charles SimicBooks by Charles Simic

Eyes Fastened With Pins

Charles Simic

How much death works,
No one knows what a long
Day he puts in. The little
Wife always alone
Ironing death's laundry.
The beautiful daughters
Setting death's supper table.
The neighbors playing
Pinochle in the backyard
Or just sitting on the steps
Drinking beer. Death,
Meanwhile, in a strange
Part of town looking for
Someone with a bad cough,
But the address somehow wrong,
Even death can't figure it out
Among all the locked doors... 
And the rain beginning to fall.
Long windy night ahead.
Death with not even a newspaper
To cover his head, not even
A dime to call the one pining away,
Undressing slowly, sleepily,
And stretching naked
On death's side of the bed.

Added: 24 Aug 2001 | Last Read: 27 Jun 2017 11:28 PM | Viewed: 9682 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/411/ | Viewed on 27 June 2017.
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