One Poem Only is a daily ritual: one poem, center stage, just for now.

This is How I DieKris AzizThis is how I dieGlass reflecting moonlighton the pavementMetal and gasoline mixing withBlood in the airA paramedic holding my handExcept, wait-- rewind.I chose to get Taco BellBefore getting on the highwayAfter all.I don't worry about the caloriesOr how a dress will fitAfter all, I have a coupon forA free soft tacoThat says "you deserve it".I am not dead, I am eating aNacho fry Baja blast chalupaIn standstill traffic.No, this is how I die:An empty bottle with one undrunkDrop of poison drippingOn the floor, mixing with theSweat on my blanketsShivering through my last feverWith nobody to hold my handExcept, wait-- rewind.This time I chose to text my friendTo speak my pain into existenceAnd arm myself with herwords of love and worry.She brings me a Chicken Enchilada BurritoWith extra Diablo sauce.I am not dead,I am sleeping soundlySafe in my bedWith many dreams to come.No, this is how I die:In a hospiceBreathing life throughan oxygen maskI am surrounded byThose who love meEnough to sneak inA Mountain Dew Baja Blast.I am telling my grandkids aboutThat one time in the Himalayas.They don’t understand what I’m sayingUntil I pronounce it“Him-uh-LAY-uhs”.Their overbearing AmericanizationIs too much for my impatient heartI love them dearlyAnd am only leaving for a short time.This is how I lived:Flirting with Death and cursing GodHeld together by soft tacosAnd nicotineTesting the limits of existenceWith recklessness andScraped together wordsEmbracing the joyEnduring the hurtNow this is how I live:Pouring words on a pageEven though I am just aBoy/Girl/Ghost/Person,Not a poetShowing my heart to strangersHolding my own hand.

More from Kris Aziz ↓

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• @tacobellkris on Substack

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Feed yourself poetry every day.