Dialogue

So what’s the delay,
sweet Death? You have debts to pay,
and not just to me.

All those credit cards.
You banked on the future, fool!
Yes: the French place near

the weir in Bath, the
trattoria in old Rome.
Love in each slow mouth-

ful. There’s nothing empty
about the nothing I am
now, Death, so fuck off.

Author: Tom D'Evelyn

Tom D'Evelyn is a private editor and writing tutor in Portland OR and, thanks to the web, across the US and in the UK. He can be reached at tom.develyn@comcast.net. D'Evelyn has a PhD in Comparative Literature from UC Berkeley. Before retiring he held positions at The Christian Science Monitor, Harvard University Press, Boston University and Brown University. He ran a literary agency for ten years, publishing books by Leonard Nathan and Arthur Quinn, among others. Before moving to Portland OR he was managing editor at Single Island Press, Portsmouth NH. He blogs at http://tdevelyn.com and other sites.

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