This poem is not about Death.

This poem is not about pontificating
about Death or glorifying Death.
This poem is not about Death lurking about
like a hungry predator or unshakable shadow.

I am fed up with reading poems about Death.

What is the soup of the day?
Tomato bisque.
What is the poem of the day?
Death.
No, thanks!

Death is not romantic.
It’s the opposite of romantic.
It’s boring.

Death is not mysterious
It is inevitable and part of life and emphatically
universal.

And Death is not exotic. Not one bit.

L’Chaim! To Life!