I get up, put the coffee on,

feed the cats, and pee.

A knock at the front door —

 

it’s Theodore Roethke,

fresh from death. Hello Theodore.

Hello Kenneth. We talk about

greenhouses. And waking up slow.

And do I know anyone who is lovely

in their bones. Yes, I do.

Many people in fact. My bones

creak. I tell him that death

makes him look refreshed,

no more sags and bags. He says

shedding the mortal coil

has some perks, but death

is like life. Only longer.

I offer him a geranium

which he puts his face in.

 

He disappears, half angel,

half joker, the sun

like a basket on his head.

I get up, put the coffee on, feed the cats, and pee. A knock at the front door— it’s Theodore Roethke, fresh from death. Hello Theodore. Hello Kenneth. We talk about greenhouses. And waking up slow. And do I know anyone who is lovely in their bones. Yes, I do. Many people in fact. My bones creak. I tell him that death makes him look refreshed, no more sags and bags. He says shedding the mortal coil has some perks, but death is like life. Only longer. I offer him a geranium which he puts his face in. He disappears, half angel, half joker, the sun like a basket on his head.