#73 - Deception Sex Triangle

'I think my girlfriend is starting to suspect,'
I tell Death as we stand together

at the foot of the otter's grave. I am here
on the pretext of laying fresh lilies

out of a continuing guilt at the otter's death,
but in fact Death and I have been meeting

to chat about mortality. His head is like
a novelty ashtray, and, perhaps because of this,

I have taken up smoking. 'We ought to make this
our last meeting,' I say, wincing as I inhale,

'there's only so long she'll believe I'm mourning
an otter.' The wind moans in Death's hollow head.

'All good things, eh?' I try a smile.
Death turns to regard the otter's headstone

with the grating whisper of crepitus.