On Going Away

The body doesn’t like the day,
Which arrived dark, in too much pain.
Maybe there’s something you can take,

Or maybe today’s that day reached
When the pain stops going away.
Maybe there’s nothing you can take.

You sit, quietly as you can,
Trying not to move any way
That offends the tumor and friends

Who are busy at their buffet—
The body’s bones, organs, and veins—
Try not to annoy them today,

Let them eat your remains today.
Remember, now, who goes away.