hubs is best,
we have somehow gone
together in a fabulous
perfect timing sort of thing
donate every part of me you can
and burn the rest. i’ll not have any
-one carrying ’round what’s left
in some sort of macabre parade.
(hey, i’m not in there, anyway.)
it makes my eyes happy.
sparkly fairy lights
would be a nice touch,
if they don’t feel like too much.
do not read any of the normal
Bad Funeral Poetry. gah. something
by Cummings is okay. or better yet,
something funny by Shel. Maybe some
-thing i wrote. some
psalms, but only the happy ones
that boast of hope.
nope, no somber nonsense or she
was all this or this
she tried. maybe it
was enough. maybe it wasn’t.
she hopes she was kind. that’s all.
some gorgeous fall,
when it’s all simmered down
to words and ash, go to my Lake
and blow me loose to breeze.
if you want to visit with me sometimes,
just talk to the trees.