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

This is How I Die

Kris Aziz

This is how I die

Glass reflecting moonlight

on the pavement

Metal and gasoline mixing with

Blood in the air

A paramedic holding my hand

Except, wait-- rewind.

I chose to get Taco Bell

Before getting on the highway

After all.

I don't worry about the calories

Or how a dress will fit

After all, I have a coupon for

A free soft taco

That says "you deserve it".

I am not dead, I am eating a

Nacho fry Baja blast chalupa

In standstill traffic.

No, this is how I die:

An empty bottle with one undrunk

Drop of poison dripping

On the floor, mixing with the

Sweat on my blankets

Shivering through my last fever

With nobody to hold my hand

Except, wait-- rewind.

This time I chose to text my friend

To speak my pain into existence

And arm myself with her

words of love and worry.

She brings me a Chicken Enchilada Burrito

With extra Diablo sauce.

I am not dead,

I am sleeping soundly

Safe in my bed

With many dreams to come.

No, this is how I die:

In a hospice

Breathing life through

an oxygen mask

I am surrounded by

Those who love me

Enough to sneak in

A Mountain Dew Baja Blast.

I am telling my grandkids about

That one time in the Himalayas.

They don’t understand what I’m saying

Until I pronounce it

“Him-uh-LAY-uhs”.

Their overbearing Americanization

Is too much for my impatient heart

I love them dearly

And am only leaving for a short time.

This is how I lived:

Flirting with Death and cursing God

Held together by soft tacos

And nicotine

Testing the limits of existence

With recklessness and

Scraped together words

Embracing the joy

Enduring the hurt

Now this is how I live:

Pouring words on a page

Even though I am just a

Boy/Girl/Ghost/Person,

Not a poet

Showing my heart to strangers

Holding my own hand.

More from Kris Aziz ↓

• @tacobellkris on Instagram
• @tacobellkris on Substack

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Feed yourself poetry every day.