Will there come a time that I long for death?
Or will I wish desperately not to have to leave?
Could this not be one of the most unsettling human thoughts?
One of us will go first
I am healthy
You are old
Dark deathly clad
I’d like an elephant to caress my dried bones
And my great-grandchildren to desperately seek
Which path I took out of my body
And chart my exact location
Just in case
I want to make a quick come back
And jump into a half-built body
For a moment
To feel gloriously unsettled