Death By My Front Porch

Death will have the face of my father 

my mother's embrace, my granny's bike. 

It will sit with me on the front porch during the relatives' Lunar New Year visits, smelling fond of expensive candies and red lucky money.

It will curl up with me on the couch, watching my father reorganizes his paperwork and vinyls for a work trip

My mother prepares dinner

It would be there in my parents' bedroom.

I would be small again, enough that I still fit on their bed.

Then I would fall asleep

And maybe, I would wake up, my mother by my side, favorite stuffy in my arms

The TV playing familiar tunes 

My granny's down in the kitchen making breakfast

My father and the relatives would arrive by bus real soon. 

Then all of us are at the dining table

My grandfather is here too, in suit and tie, not a hospital gown

My cousins would beckon me over 

And we would make a mess while running about. 

Death will cradle me in its arms 

The serenity of my childhood would replay over and over and over 

Until I nuzzle into its chest again, too tired from sobbing

And I would fall asleep, this time in the voices and laughter of my family members.