by Jon Corelis14 Nov 2013
Death is always with me, at my elbow
sporting a jaunty beret and a fake French accent;
at dinner, making judicious remarks on the wine;
playing cat's-cradle with cobwebs on the bus;
baffling me at chess with unheard of gambits;
strumming his mournful guitar with a pick of thorn;
and snatching flies that vanish into his fist.
He's almost the only thing I'm going to miss.