Death's Call

Cold and desolate
I sit awkwardly 
at my desk
memorized by
Poe's words:

"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague.
Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?" 

I live
I die
I rejoice
I mourn

Hell spoke 
to me
As though
I am already
there
Am I ?

I conquer
I smell defeat

yet I never
surrender
as doing
so would
make the 
failures a
permanent fixture

I saw her fear
when the ambulance 
escorted her out
of earth's door

I heard the 
ending to his mortality
when 
last we spoke

I observed the bird
who hovered
over us

hissing
Death's call

My Hawk 
scouts it
waiting to
tear the sound
from its' chirp

Time may steal
our essence
but the spirit
will not be expropriated
only transferred