They have said, I have heard <br />it spoken now, I am obsessed <br />can’t stop talking, death, about it <br />this time, if not one it’s another. <br /> <br />Call the priest, they’re joking <br />of course, what good would that <br />do in the end, all’s fair, no one <br />can cheat the last breath out. <br /> <br />Call the dogs off, the cats in. <br />The crows are flying low again, <br />you can’t get an honest answer <br />anywhere, the where the how <br /> <br />on any given day. It could <br />be there knocking on your door <br />just to say hello, not today <br />but another and who knows when. <br /> <br />Preparation, I tell them, over and <br />under and over, tie the knots and <br />cut the strings that always got you, <br />held you too low down for good. <br /> <br />It’s not, repeat, isn’t, an affair, some <br />sort of love, that’s not, it, is how the <br />night has always been a friend. <br />Will you answer? When it knocks?<br /><br />Ben Paynter<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/they-are-saying/
