Dying on Saturday while gardening

Carried away on light-headedness.
This is not some narcotic
induced trip
but breathlessness. The edge
of death spinning like a ferris wheel
behind white tilted eyes.

A fist clad in steel
wraps about a dancing shadow,
pinched and stemmed
the flow of life however brief
ceases in a dull roar,
surf surging through an aural

Feet dance a palsied shuffle.
A string marionette
complete with ruffle at a buttoned
Beckoned to the halls
of those who have no more use of
toes or soles.

Light returns,
shadow partner slips away,
whispers her promise
of another day
while I laugh in her pale white face.
Balance restored, ribs rise.
Blue skies and life returned.

-Dave Kavanagh

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