Admiring death from afar;
A bicycle-shape closing
On the foot of a hill,
Where bird-drawn wings panic
Themselves at the prophesies
That spinning spokes inspire.
Meats curl their stiff smells
Through kitchen windows,
As steam blurs the cutlery,
And steaming oven-dishes force the thought
That, in certain instances,
Death looks better so much nearer.
Stug Jordan
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/admiring-death-from-afar/
