A Muse To A Matyre Poem by Tony Adah

If death comes twice
Now it will do no harm
You lay there covered
In a crib you can not change
It makes no difference that we who
Refuse to speak still tarry here
Waiting for the wind to blow.

You spoke to me last night
When I saw you writhing in your crimson blood
Massacred on our behalf
Still they speak as if they want you dead again
And I do not know
What gain death will cuddle
Struggling a shroud with the corpse!