Flash poetry: Death and Taxes

Nothing Is As Certain As

 Death: like applesauce,
both solid and liquid,
an unlabeled jam jar, a
bagpipe, deflated; an iris
closed before dawn.

 Taxes: struggling to spell
your own name, a
broken power cord, a father's
wheezing snore; when you wake up
late on garbage day, and
run to the curb in your bathrobe
and slippers.

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