A TRYST WITH DEATH

I heard him jingling the bell
down the corridor,
and with a sigh
I mused over the thigh
of the white maid
as I nodded to the fading knell.

Saline dripped into my vein,
smudgy walls came closer,
and I saw the butterfly
flapping her wings dry
in the pungent air
lulling my benumbed brain.