last gesture

by Rob Plath

one day death

will smack its

hand down

upon yr body

like a ketchup

packet on

a diner table

waiting to

be smashed

& yr red guts

will spray out

& you’ll be

collapsed

just a wet stain

attracting ants

& death will pinch

its bone digits

together

bringing them up

to its lipless mouth

& kissing them

& then blowing

them open

a cold chef’s kiss

for yr sorry ass

Contrary to popular belief, Rob Plath is not yet under the jurisdiction of the worms. His latest book of poems, Batter the Keyboard Like a Raptor Is Behind Yr Back, is available from Laughing Ronin Press.