I want this read at my funeral,
except I don’t want a funeral.
Inscribe it on my headstone,
Except there won’t be one.
Ashes poured into a cardboard pot
With a willow tree; write with charcoal
So the words get eaten up and cast out
Into the wind with the fallen leaves;
“A few final solutions, like a duet
With the undertaker: a voice in the clouds…”