Death Going to sleep, I cross my hands on my chest. They will place my hands like this. It will look as though I am flying into myself. Author: Bill Knott Death2003-10-252009-07-20https://ashevillepoetryreview.com/wp-content/uploads/apr_logo-2025.svgAsheville Poetry Reviewhttps://ashevillepoetryreview.com/wp-content/uploads/apr_logo-2025.svg200px200px