Being Born, Then Dying

      by Elizabeth Oakes

When you become a body,
it tightens around
you with a sound like
insects in a haiku.

Then, the body loosens
like jeans you’ve worn
three times, and you will
slip out of it with no
more thought than that.

From Bigger Than They Appear: Anthology of Very Short Poems, Katerina Stoykova-Klemer, editor, Lexington, Kentucky: Accents Publishing, 2011, page 269.