I wish I was Death.

Not I wish I was dead

though that thought lists in my brain

A morbid tumbleweed that drifts aimless

Hiding behind doors, rolling out from beneath loveseats.

No I wish I was Death.

If I were Death

With a capital D

The subjunctive made flesh

I would be an agent of change

Undeniable

Respected, feared, desired,

Recognized

No one ignores Death’s texts

Or asks Death what’s for dinner

Death doesn’t have to wait on hold

Death doesn’t read the room

Or do emotional lifting

Death never runs errands

I wish the world quaked

In my wake

I wish I were the cutter of strings

I wish I were the sleep endless

If I were Death with a capital D