Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2009

I Make Death Omelettes

by Mary Dennis

I am not going to die.
I am not going to die
because I laugh
at least twice a day
and I can still touch my toes.
To hell with bargaining
with that smug, cloaked skeleton
just to stroke his ego
and keep him subdued.
I refuse to die.
Poets and soldiers die.
People who were born in 1926 die.
Jesus died
but he cheated.
My grandparents died
one after the other
becoming crumpled
brown paper bag people.
I can't die.
I eat Death for breakfast.
I make Death omelettes.
I smear Death with condiments
and wash it down with orange juice.
I find it's all too easy
to consume piece after piece
until Death and I
are one and the same.
I do not want to die.

Added: 14.04.2009