WEBVTT

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This is my favorite
poem of these poems

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because of the last line.

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"People who do
not remember death

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are destined to be surprised.

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Me, I have become so familiar
with her sweet perfume.

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I think of my great
grandmother's rot, of my cousin

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sliced in the wars.

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There is no day when
I have been awake,

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I have not noticed death, slow
pulling the hem of my dress.

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The one in the
next bed is dying.

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Mother, we are all
next, or next."

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