You used to ask me about death
in the dark
in the whisper voice you use
when you don’t want
your stuffies to hear.

But now you are
so cheerful about it,
pointing at old people
in grocery stores,
asking me with some excitement
if they are almost dead.

Yesterday, you cornered me
and wanted to know
if people ever die
the night before Christmas.

I tell you people die every day
in a tone that tries to say

death isn’t scary
but perhaps don’t bring it up
so loud in public

so you whisper back
with wide eyes

what does Santa do
with their toys?