Mark Smith-Soto

Segue

Now that you mention it: death,
the cherry outside the kitchen
in full bloom, the novel I left
open on my bed, the stitch in

my side riding a rib, the small
hole at the center of my retina
where nothing registers at all,
the rip in the screen letting in a

gnat adrift on the whiff of daphne
blooming along the broken driveway,
the sudden abandon of your laugh, me
forgetting what I was going to say,

closing my eyes, holding my breath,
and now that you mention it, death.