LET ME DIE IN A TINY SKIFF ON AN ANGRY BAY, SKY GREY, 

TIDE GOING ONE WAY, WIND THE OTHER, 

AFRAID TO ROW, MOTOR WON’T START, 

WAVES HUNGRY, FEAR FREEZING THE OARLOCKS, 

PANIC LAPPING AT THE GUNWALES. 

I WANT TO DIE CARRYING A NINETY POUND GUN 

UP A SOUTHERN SLOPE, MAGNOLIA TREES, 

HOT JULY DAY, DUST ON MOUTH, 

HUNGRY, AGONY OF THIRST, NEVER GET TO THE TOP, 

BULLET STOP ME. 

I WILL BE DEAD BUT NOT TORTURED. 

LET IT BE THE FAST KNIFE OF A JEALOUS MAN, 

THE WAYWARD HAND OF A WOMAN, 

A DRUNK AT THE WHEEL, 

STEEL FROM A THERMO-JET, 

HAND GRENADE: 

THERE DEATH HIDES HIS HATE AND IN THAT COLD KISS 

THERE IS SURPRISE BUT NO BETRAYAL. 

DON’T LET ME STAND ON THE THIRD TIER 

OF A COUNTY JAIL AND HEAR THE FEET OF MY 

OPPRESSORS, 

SEE THE FEAR TURN ASHEN THE DARK FACES OF MY 

BROTHERS, 

SEE THE BLACK HAND POINT MY WAY, 

SETTING ME UP FOR A WHITE MURDERER. 

WHEN A MAN DIES BETRAYED 

HE DIES AFRAID 

AND VERY LONELY.