My Daughters, When I Die

Lisa M. Kendrick
Featured image: Daughters Berlin © Seigar 2019


Bury me six feet only
If you will howl ‘When Doves Cry’
To full moons and bring me rum,
Dark and spicy, to spill liberally over my grave,
Rest your freckled cheek above mine,
Inhaling dried grass that smells of sun and weed.

Bury me six feet only
If you will whisper to me of sacred things,
Induct your lovers on my green mound
While moaning into the echoing void,
Bathe your skin with starlight
And fall asleep there listening to Etta James.

Bury me six feet only
If you will decorate my barrow
With all the glitter from your childhood,
Spin in tight circles above me until
You are so dizzy that you collapse,
Your breath smelling of red velvet.

Bury me six feet only
If you cannot bear to see me float away,
But I ask that instead you let loose a cloud of me
At the wishing tree, sharing our memories
With the arc of sky between its boughs
After cleansing my bones in a belly of flame.