“Here comes a candle to light you to bed,
And here comes a chopper to chop off your head”
(Nursery rhyme)
Death is a blind flamingo, hunting fishes.
He does not mean to gobble you or me—
And when his beak swings wildly, never wishes
To scare us so. If only he could see!
At night he wades through surf to seek a mate.
That’s why he stinks of salt and oyster shells.
It is his blindness keeps him celibate:
This bungler thinks he kisses when he kills.
I wish he wouldn’t make us die. I wish
He’d spread his wings one night and fly away
To higher planets for his girls and fish.
But he’s got used to Earth and plans to stay.