Poetry

I was not ready 
when the gift arrived. 
Today I cannot share my laugh, 
my tears 
with you. 
 
The debt of ashes 
was climbing up. 
Clouds outside, 
clouds inside. 
My room was full of friends. 
Wind was coming in, 
wind was going out. 
And I was trying to convince them 
about euthanasia. 
 
What was I dreaming? Mutation versus creation? 
Botox? Somebody removing the wrinkles? 
Augmenting the breasts with implants? 
Black insanity? 
Death was another name of birth? 
 
Now I was transfixed: 
Love birds were feeding their kids!