I'm cold in my heart, coal-hard
knot in the mountain buried
deep in the boarded-up mine. So,
I let death in, learn to prospect
the between dreams of the dying,
the one dream that tells you when
to throw up, the other, when
you're in pain. I tell you
I will love someone that you
will never meet, death's warm
breath at the mouth
of the body's holler.
You are crying in the shower.
I am crying near the shower.
Your body a welcomed-red
fire-starter in steam and I think,
how scared I would be
if I were death. How could I
come to this house, come
to this loved being, see
the mountain's power
and dare blast you down.
I dry you off and think,
if I were death come to take you,
your real-earth explosives,
I would be terrified.

- Ada Limon, Cower