I have seen Death.
She came in all different ways
Natural deaths and suicides
Accidentals and homicides.
She eventually turned to grey.

I have heard Death.
She grasped a straw for one last breath
Her death rattle ~ one lost battle
Many funeral homilies.
She sung a quiet lullaby.

I have smelled Death.
She had a musk of rotten eggs
The noxious stink of gassed bloaters
She was a fowl-like floater.
Charcoal fired ~ undesired.

I have touched Death.
She had blowflies that were hatching
Maggots crawling ~ nibbling on flesh
Dermis slipped off translucent skin.
With my hands, pieces I picked up.

I’ve tasted Death.
A smorgasbord of grey knowledge
She was a welcomed buffet feast
Since I have cared for the deceased.
One day someone will care for me.

Day 17: NaPoWriMoPrompt: The Five Senses