Made in Bukowski

waiting for death

like a cat

that will jump on the

bed

I am so very sorry for

my wife

she will see this

stiff

white

body

shake it once, then

maybe

again:

“Hank!”

Hank won´t

answer.

it´s not my death that

worries me, it´s my wife

left with this

pile of

nothing.

I want to

let her know

though

that all the nights

sleeping

beside her

even the useless

arguments

were things

ever splendid

and the hard

words

I ever feared to

say

can now be

said:

I love

you.

Charles Bukowski, Confession