To the Fairest Reaper

 To the fairest reaper I did implore
“Where is the death sentence
That I hunger for?
I have traveled poisoned hence
To the breathlessness
I have known before.

“Am I the kiss of death
Or the light of newborn breath?
I feel I am a shade
Doomed to, sickened, fade
In the lees where pour
With the thunder’s roar
Voices that breed the choir
Of diseased desire.

“How ill, Reaper, they intone
Upon my memorial stone
Stanzas that fantastically guide
To where my tomb’s dreams reside.
And I beg the waste that haunts Heaven
That I might be forgiven
(By mercy reigning above)
For the harvest I have sown
Cleanse this ash and bone
Of the spirits I dared to love.”