I.

silver cells abound in glistening field
the body turns, a whooping crane listens.
Fish beneath the shadowed surface
dart in seizure spasms
The crane’s beak jabs into the water, lacerating gills

II.

hairless, mouth ajar, dark circles underneath the eyes,
stomach in rebellion, T cells on strike.

There has to be a better way to die

listless, pallor, eyes fluttering, hallucinating,
blind, cancer in recession, it doesn’t matter anymore.

There has to be a better way to die

feeding tubes, morphine, high fever, delirium,
tired like Vishnu imbibing all the world’s suffering.

There has to be a better way to die