Death Was Poem by Jack Mashman

Death was darkness, or so I presumed,
It could just as well have been light.
I was running down a hospital corridor
My breath was a sickly ether
I was in a white coma,
Tinged with rose.

Death was forever without moving
In a box, or so they say.
I was standing
The eternal mendicant
With arms outstretched,
I called and called.

Death was the stillness
Or was it noise unlistened?
If I could only be sure,
Rock and roll in a college diner
The coke machine was working,
Nobody was there.

Death was cessation of memory
There was no pain and no joy.
I was dehydrated
Instead of laughter, a dry hacking cough.
I wanted to cry, but there were no tears
Only particles of dust.

Death was continuance
Of what had gone on
Before the living gap,
Before the fetus and the womb.
I was back in my own time warp,
I tried to remember.

1982