simplified humanism

death can't resist us;
we batter down death's door,
unconcerned about our lateness
and the shit we track into
death's carpets.

death is a meek curate, tolerant
and up all hours just in case.
Pray spare death.
Neither go gentle nor brash headlong
into death's good night, the pavement.

we might let death retire -
revoke our entitlement -
give over giving out -
somehow leave death alone.
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