My dear Mr. Death,
Thank you for your presents.
Your gifted presence
keeping the to-do list
buried in perspective.
Our correspondence
grants my ponderance
a preponderance
without evidence.
Clever feelings
devise games
that you are sure
to end.
I like those little deaths.
They build up like bricks
the building of the big end
into a loose convexity.
We will fall down
together. You cannot live
without the tragedies
that end each life.
I respect that about you.
You are a creature
of your context. Eye color
could not matter less to you.
We aspire to
retire to the contingency
that starks
your inevitable reign.
With loving sincerity,
One of your brown-eyed toys
Roman Ryan 