Mary Cresswell
is from Los Angeles and has lived in New Zealand since 1970.
She has published in a variety of journals in the US and NZ, Australia and Canada, both print and online.
For her day job, she is a science editor.
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Night Thoughts
Timor mortis conturbat me—
The fear of death leaves me unsettled
Keep in mind, this is not to say
It’s only me who’ll come unravelled.
You’re in for it too, don’t think you’re not.
Timor mortis conturbat te.
Move where you like, X marks the spot,
Sooner or later, you’re on your way.
Can we stand it? Come, get close,
Laugh in the dark, whistle a song.
Timor mortis conturbat nos . . .
But maybe I don’t really want you along?
We’ll go it alone. I think that we must.
This isn’t a game that two can play.
Me to my ashes, you to your dust—
Timor mortis conturbat me.
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