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28 What Poems Say All poems say one thing: death is coming. Why else do they spruce you up, pale disheveled corpse—wizened, shy? Why lipstick, rouge, a brand new suit? We comb lifeless hair. Shut dark, inquisitive eyes. Death is coming: like a lover, a corporate boss. We have to look good, like someone on a dock in his best clothes. Departure is formal.All poems know this, and say one thing. Ransack your wardrobe! Straighten your tie!What else is there to say? others on the dock whisper, a sound like water slopping up against a huge ship. Now it blasts its one note: throbbing like an organ. Seagulls cry, fly about like handkerchiefs in a stiff wind. All poems say the same thing: kiss your loved ones;say goodbye. ...

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