most days / I imagine my death
in color /or as an itchy ache
tangible as the calamus
of goosefeather needling through
the fabric of the blanket
on my bed / discomfort taking
the place of warmth / for example
the dream of my death is a study
in red / where I am young
and my mother is always there
insistent as the sunrise / and alive
by which I mean / her existence
in that dream is the reason
I have never been able
to believe / I will grow old
the most natural thing in life
I’m told / is a child will bury
her parents / not the other way
around /so it must be that I am not
as god intended / my wants unnatural
and crude / for example I didn’t love
that blanket til it hurt me
but after that I couldn’t sleep
without the ache / for example
I didn’t know I feared my mother
until I realized / she would age
*This poem borrows its title from an episode of the TV show, Supernatural