In an ideal world
dying would be just.
There would be strength-
to tie up loose ends,
to quit murky relationships,
to bring our loves closer,
to make the dysfunctional, functional.
There would be time-
to make sense of things,
to bring about perspective,
to close chapters.
There would be explanations-
conversations
confrontations
convocations.
In an ideal world
the end would be peaceful.
Words exchanged would tell-
where the money is hidden,
where the keys are kept,
what I really thought that day in June.
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