Inter

I’ll take a shovel and dig a hole
six by six by two
lay myself down in that cool damp earth
and close my eyes
You can come by then, take up the shovel
and cover me with soil
watch as I disappear under with each spoonful
of black earth — and do me the favour
of covering my face last
and finally replace the sod
Leave no marker there to say
that I was ever here

Wrap me in funeral shroud
or any old sheet you find
and weigh me heavy with stone and iron
cast my form into cold dark water
where the sea creatures can do as they will
and you may smile as I sink beneath the waves
Place me high on a final pyre
where if breath still be
it can be snatched away by smoke and flame
and I will stack the logs
with my own hands
burnt offering to ancient gods who do not care