without fear i stepped into the darkness, saw the bodies crumpled, lying on the snow, and knew this life for one last time. the moment of death is one of anticipation, omniscience before words can be assigned. feeling the whistle of the tea kettle before the water begins to boil. it's the instant before climax extended forever; pressure mounting behind the ears with breath held and toes curled. there is no release. i am eternally held, suspended in time, poured out into the snow, head broken, body folded, incarnadine staining the virgin white. i have a hundred bodies and a hundred deaths. i am lying atop the dampened grass beside a muddy pond, in the warmth of the womb, curled beneath dozens of blankets in a panoply of beds, in a hospital, a bathroom floor, from a bridge, a roof, bathtub, river. where one life ends another continues without interruption, nearly seamlessly, unnoticed if it weren't for the haunting incongruities in the mirror; the missing freckle, the added scar and the expectation of a bruise not visible. i relearn this face and step into these temporary hands, and relish how the world looks through second-hand eyes.