Meeting Death

Meeting Death

Kneeling beside me
On a cold concrete curb,
Darkly hooded, hushed,
Hollowly familiar.

My eyes cast down,
Pretending hurt,
Yet not so lonely now.

I whisper, accusing,
—A weak veneer—  
“Where were you?
I’ve looked for you,
…Missed you.”

A thin cold arm 
Across my shoulders.
Comforting.
“I’m here now, 
…I never really leave.”

And we laughed together
Until I cried,
Laughed,
At the folly of it all.

                                    

                                               --William Martin

---