When I die
please close my eyes.
Don’t leave me staring
into space I cannot see.
Dead eyes that seem to see
are nightmare eyes.
Close them. Please.
I have a fear of sightless eyes.

I want the cushion of my eyelids.
A couchement of my being;
a curtain on my life.
Behind these lowered lids
no-one will know the secrets
that I see. The wonders
of another life – or velvet,
black as night, eternal.
who knows? Only me.