Till Death Do Us Part - Athena Chu

So, I wonder. Who were we

when Death still lived in God’s womb?

Could we love, fluent in being,

with no edge to our souls, no thought

of forging dead ends, leaving life unrequited.

Well, God drowned her sheets,

between wrinkles and blushing stretch marks,

in pure palms of sweat, and Death born divine,

dressed in the tender skin of mortals,

replete with hand-me-down organs,

sucking on sour life, no earthly milk.

Death grew, thanked God for knowing his name,

and forgetting ours, as she watched him

play with our dust in her front yard,

though I do not mind,

as long as Death remembers me.