Gaming Death Poem by Job Ombati

Gaming Death

Can you sit death down at a table
Teach him some home truths?
Advise him?
Reprimand him for child mischief?
Tuck a napkin into his shirt?
Pass cutlery?
Ask him to taste the broth
And if he'll take mad chillies
Or Tabasco?

Can you look deep into his deathly pupils
Seek to pick his mind?
Give a sly grin
Expect a rounding of mouth
And a softening of eyes?

Can you dial his number
And 'Hi! ' him on the mouthpiece?
Ask him where he's been?
Would you expect a sigh on the other side?
A legitimate 'I missed you a lot! '

Can you challenge him to a staring duel?
Will you blink first or he?
Whose hand will take a pin
On an arm wrestling duel?

Can you meet him.
In the grazing fields.
Whistle him?
Tease him?
'Yaa moisia! ' him?
And beat him at a game of dusty socker?
And gloat over it next day?

Can you meet at Kencom.
Hug-pat him?
Shake his hand hard?
Straighten his collar?
Point out a veggie stuck in his teeth?
And ask to clear the crust in his eye?

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
If death were a person, which endless possibilities would it open? What impossibly would one imagine engaging death in? This poem explores a number of such impossibilities.
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