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Maybe death meets you
at a hospital. Not the way
you’re imagining, not like
you’re hospitalized (though,
I guess, you could be)—just
say it shows up
with a wheelchair 
and forms to sign.
Say it helps you settle
in the seat, the stitches
of your body’s edge still
itching against the air. Now
it shuttles you past
life’s antiseptic 
walls and steady
spasm of fluorescent light
as people wave,
until a door glides open
and you rise, wobbling
out into the heat
and dirt of heaven.

d


Lily Beaumont’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in publications including Prolit, Star 82 Review, and Crow & Cross Keys. She has an MA in English from Brandeis University and currently lives in Central Texas, where she works as a curriculum/study guide developer and editor.

© 2022, Lily Beaumont

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