At an open bar in Sarkin Pawa
the night was flourishing to Burna Boy’s las las.
Our bodies were getting drowned in our beers;
the bandits have invaded and conquered Sharp-Kona.
Some voice drunken in the music tells us to run.
something hit a man dancing to the music;
Some say it was the music, but we knew it was a bullet
in our attempt to run, a bullet,
through my head opened a door,
death with its warm hands held me and I walked through
In the opening of morning, a bullet,
through my head opened a door,
death with its warm hands held me and I walked through
At the meadow of sunflowers, a bullet,
through my head opened a door,
death with its warm hands held me and I walked through
In the heatless afternoon, a bullet,
through my head opened a door,
death with its warm hands held me and I walked through
At my 1000th birthday party, a bullet,
through my head opened a door,
 death with its warm hands held me and I walked through
At an open bar in Sarkin Pawa, a bullet,
 through my head opened a door,
death with its warm hands held me and I refused and
 I refused and I refused and in my refusal the door closed
And the door closed and I opened,      soft as a yawn and
I opened magnificent as light.
                
(Editors’ Note: “Time loop for the day I die.” is read by Matt Peters on the Uncanny Magazine Podcast, Episode 63B.)

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