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The Singer Sings “Everybody Dies”

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Not everybody. Not 

me or those redwoods up north

in the heat wide and strong

and tall. My only death was a dog.


When I sat there wishing for shrinking,

that can’t be strength. 


I held a gun once

in my backyard.

It was Christmas Day.

And once in those redwoods the

dog fell in near the waterfall—

I remember a movie from childhood

but that was a cat

so I have nothing to go off of here.


I have no god. Is that

strength? Am I not saying:

I am strong enough.

Thank you, but I’ll take it from here.


The house I first lived in

with the rabbit in the back

and the memories I have stolen,

the toad in the dogs mouth,

not the dead dog, another, one I never knew.


My father has the cancer cut

from his back and later twists 

in the mirror to cut the stitch.

Strength? And after the death

He waits ‘til the sun sets—is it?

Comments (2)

This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

wow, that's pretty good.

This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

Thank you Pepemaggo!

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