Our Mother Toughs it out with He whose Name I will not Speak

(A tribute to my Mother-in-Law)

I speak of death in hushed and measured tones,

creeping round the subject,

as if by saying it out loud

I might attract attention,

alert death to my presence

and I sort of think that,

though I’m no spring chicken,

I’m not quite ready yet

for death to know of my existence.

She, Our Mother, being older,

speaks more boldly, 

reading out obituaries loudly,

magnifying glass in hand,

defiantly discussing funeral plans.

A direct challenge:

Come on then,

Come and get me, Death,

IF

you think you’re hard enough.