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.