How many times do I find myself
whispering later even as I have to grasp
death's advent will have to bring sooner
does this happen to us all I wonder
I mean all of us not only threatened
but who have our ending laid before us
all of us all whom death has been given
and the word death which the world
was so eager to have us know
so that now just saying it seems almost
a kind of vengeance just to be able to utter
later later and find some sustenance
some surcease in the uttering itself
in the silent insistent sob that finds
its way out in futile blurts later later
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