Allee's "Death" is a short, quiet poem built on a single repeated phrase: "I wish." Four of its five lines begin that way, and the repetition makes the speaker sound like someone turning the same thought over and over, unable to put it down.
What the speaker wants is simple and a little startling. They imagine death as a person who could talk, someone they could sit down with and question. They want to know when their own time will be "up," which suggests a mind weighed down by uncertainty rather than one that is simply afraid. Not knowing seems to be the hardest part.
The mood is wistful and uneasy, but also strangely gentle. There is no anger or drama here, just a plain, almost childlike longing for answers. By treating death as something that could be asked, the speaker makes it feel less like a wall and more like a conversation that can't happen. The poem leaves us with that silence, and with the questions still unasked.