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  • Todd Wooten

A Good Way to Die

What is the string of hope?

Commencing with an hourglass tattoo on my skin.

Question mark shape outlined in the dunes.

Parched I refuse to drink the assembled

heaps of blades and bullets.

Reluctant I remain, seething, breathing

refusing to reward my pain.

Tincture drops wet my tongue.

Words vomit out in heaves.

With cramping hands I transcribe

crisp pages splattered with ink.

Death arrives summoning.

Door opened wide, smiling.

Pouring drinks from a decanter

distilled of regret and rage.

Slipping burn crosses my fingertips

announcing victory to the assembled mourners.

"I have no more words. I have said all I wanted."

Tossing them the page.

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