You might wonder
will it hurt
in the last moment
before death
and I’ll tell you
it’s as if
the cardboard box
of your life
is folded up
in an instant—
not like a cardboard container
you contend with—
strip the tape which held
its essence from one side
pull the flaps, turn and fold
No, it’s fast like lightning
a force of infinite gravity
instantly taking and giving
the speck of what you were
to a recycle bin—
and even if you had time
to ask yourself
Is this really happening?
your countless nerve cells
won’t have time to convey
pain to your brain because
you’ll be drifting in the wave
of your last breath
Richard L. Matta grew up in New York’s Hudson Valley, practiced forensic science, and now lives in San Diego with his golden-doodle dog. Some of his work is found in Ancient Paths, Dewdrop, Hole in the Head Review, San Pedro River Review, and Third Wednesday.