this is how

i've chosen to die.

hands serenely folded

emulating

an origami of some

sort.

and white the oleanders will

be.

in a glass

of milk on the sill of the window

thin and slender;

(bearing)

sweet nectar-

& i'm hoping

that the sky holds

out

and doesn't choose to

rid itself

of its filth.

Oh, sweet divinity,

we must not exonerate

the rain

for spoiling the nectar of this

(Sweet

Beautiful

Captivating)

pale oleander.