WEBVTT

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"My Death."

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There is a fact in
this poem, I was

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born on Prince Edward Island.

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I mentioned that in this poem.

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It's perhaps the only
true thing about the poem.

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I don't know.

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I'm out of water,
and close the drawer.

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Keep bumping up against it.

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"My Death."

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"Sadness, of course,
and confusion.

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The relatives gathered
at the graveside

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talking about the waste,
and the weather mounting.

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The rain moving in
vague pillars offshore.

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This is Prince Edward Island,
I came back to my birthplace

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to announce my death.

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I said I would ride full gallop
into the sea and not look back.

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People were furious.

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I told them about attempts
I had made in the past.

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How I starved in order to
be the size of Lucille,

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whom I loved to inhabit the
cold space her body had taken.

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They were shocked.

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I went on about the time, I
dove in a perfect arc that

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filled with the
sunshine of farewell,

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and I fell head over shoulders
into the river's thigh.

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And about the
time, I stood naked

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in the snow pointing a
pistol between my eyes.

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And how when I fired my head
bloomed into health, soon

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I was alone.

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Now I lie in the
box of my making,

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while the weather builds.

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And the mourners shake their
heads as if to write or to die.

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I did not have to do either."