Last Things
Joyce Carol Oates
Combing my hair, a sudden snarl
in the pink teeth.
How silent, death entering.
But I mean of course only the thought.
The thought of death.
The thought of Death.
I mean of course only the thought,
entering.
Combing my hair, a sudden snarl
in the pink teeth.
How silent, death entering.
But I mean of course only the thought.
The thought of death.
The thought of Death.
I mean of course only the thought,
entering.