Ross White
Death by a thousand cuts, I wish you, death
on the motorway in your brand new Chrysler SUV, death
in the springtime, on a day when you heard singing, death
spreading slowly from your feet to stomach to neck, death
after the secret, amorous correspondent is met, death
swelling through the mansions of misery, death
definitely, and decisive in its leisure, death
humming, still, a tune from end credits of a movie, death
like the dancing girls taking off their feathered helmets, death
with its tragic, eloquent filibuster, death
kissing until its mouth is snowy and raw, death
in the inner circle, in the outer circle, outside the circle, death
unlocking the apartment with the super's spare key, death
in the untranslatable tongue of machine noise, I wish you.