every summer the reaper comes and asks me,
how would you like to die?
make it grapefruit and tequila in the evening
a slow-burning flame
the gasping breath of my name
let it be a summer breeze on the sweat between my breasts
give me people to love and people to miss
make it unexpected
a lingering kiss
make it holy
like catching fireflies with them
climbing mountains and running through the rain
the kind of holy that makes you feel whole again
make it full of regret
but the kind that makes you laugh instead of wonder, what if
every summer the reaper comes and asks me,
how would you like to die?
and I reply,
make it a slow death
