I spend the morning
Texting with the dead
Sending photos back and forth
Mostly to my mother whose birthday
Was yesterday and whose last
Necessary job was greeting
The bereaved in a funeral parlor
Though she was secretly terrified
Of corpses but tells me now not to worry
About dying it's been happening
All along just another birthday
'I keep getting younger every day'
Signing off with a slew of emojis
And a link to falling stars
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