Thirty-One Days
day xxviii
Tittle Page
awake! from our
cataclysmic black nights
of serpentine dreams in heaven's
despite
all our lives equate to rings
of fire
surrounding us, burning us,
with death at its terminus
there can be no cleansing peace
of rest
for there is a knock at the door
wait! don't answer it!
could be death
arriving with a cold and sudden
breath
page
xxvii
Index
page xix