• Skip to main content
  • Skip to footer

Willawaw Journal

Online Poetry & Art

  • Home
  • Poet Laureate Prompts
    • Prompts for Spring 2021
    • Prompts for Winter 2020
    • Prompts for Fall 2020
    • Prompts for Spring 2020
    • Prompts for Winter 2019
    • Prompts for Fall 2019
    • Prompts for Spring 2019
    • Prompts for Winter 2018
    • Prompts for Fall 2018
    • Prompts for Spring 2018
    • Prompts for Winter 2017
    • Prompts for Summer 2017
  • Journal
    • Willawaw Journal Winter 2020 Issue 11
    • Willawaw Journal Fall 2020 Issue 10
    • Willawaw Journal Spring 2020 Issue 9
    • Willawaw Journal Winter 2019 Issue 8
    • Willawaw Journal Fall 2019 Issue 7
    • Willawaw Journal Spring 2019 Issue 6
    • Events
    • Willawaw Journal Winter 2018 Issue 5
    • Willawaw Journal Fall 2018 Issue 4
    • Willawaw Journal Spring 2018 Issue 3
    • Willawaw Journal Winter 2017 Issue 2
    • Willawaw Journal Summer 2017 Issue 1
  • Submissions
  • About
    • The Editor
    • Behind-the-Scenes Creatives and Advisors
  • Contact

Sandra Rokoff-Lizut

Suppose Death, driving a black Dodge Ram

with custom chrome-aluminum wheels,
causes a multi-car pile-up outside of Tacoma
scoring two fatalities, then one more,
by forcing a target-bound woman off the road at Exit 234.

Suppose he barrels off at a rest stop
somewhere in Oregon. A toothpick hanging
out of the left side of his mouth
he lolls in the noon-day sun
against one of the wooden poles

supporting a plastic encased state map.
Death holds a cold cup of free coffee,
and scans his surroundings. Suppose
a thirty-something guy
with blond dreadlocks and empty eyes

crouches outside the restroom entry
next to a scrappy backpack,
a corrugated cardboard sign
and his angelic four year old son
scratching the dirt with a sharp stick.

Suppose the Grim Reaper, with a sly smile,
strolls over and slips the child a five.
The child puts the finishing touch
on his stick-figure super-hero,
lifts his head and gazes up.

Pushing silky curls from his brow
he meets the Reaper’s grimace
with a wide-open sun-bright smile.
Suppose Death, suddenly startled,
has a change of heart.

He abandons the Dodge,
pinches a red Porsche convertible,
jumps over its driver’s-side door,
settles into a white leather bucket seat,
and peels back out on I-5–

pedal floored, face windward, beach hair blown toward eternity.

 

Sandra Rokoff-Lizut came to poetry at the age of seventy-one and finds that it feeds her well. She has had quite a few poems published in fine journals. She is honored to be surrounded by a wealth of great teacher-mentors within a supportive poetry community. 

Share this:

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Print

Related

Footer

Stay In Touch

Subscribe to our mailing list for news about events, opportunities, and of course, the latest issue of Willawaw Journal.
* indicates required
We respect your privacy and will never sell or rent your personal information to third parties.

Support

Willawaw Journal requires no reading fees for submissions. Please make a donation to support the running of Willawaw Journal. Thank you!

Support Willawaw Journal

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Instagram

Copyright © 2021 Willawaw Journal, LLC · WordPress · site design by Yeda, LLC