If I were to die today:
the sun would thrust its head over the back wall
and extend its arms to tickle the guava leaves;
the day would arrive at the front on dusty feet
and leave dirty half-prints all over the house.
The road outside would hum in an old rhythm.
Far away, a flower would burst from its sepals
and a cloud in the sky would change shape to oblige
the passing wind.
A fish in an ocean would try to fly – and succeed;
“…your manuscript accepted…”, a young author would read.
If I were to die today,
one day would pause – one day would fray!
tomorrow would follow yesterday,
and other days, all on their way.