they all came to my funeral,
the outlaws stood in the back,
they were all dressed in black,
their scars came to my graveside
services too,

the Children of the Sun
stood in the fourth row, they
all held arrows and one held the
community bow, one cried, the one
who I saw from the coffin inside, a beautiful
indigo girl surrounded with a blue-violet hue,

the filmmakers dressed in glitterati
of the third row eulogized me as the Firebrand
and gave me a greenlight go, they sent me into
the crossover with blessings from the Hollywood god,
From the Convent to the Rawhide: The Saga of Sadie
Cade and Vi Montana got the biggest applaud,

the homeless held their lighters in flame,
in the ghetto memorialized the fire in my name,
they gave their only possession, wrapped their
tattered blankets around me, homeless uncounted
in the second row on the census rosters,

the bible impostors stood in the first row
to make sure they were seen, they wagged
their fingers at me and preached me a psalm,
the one that was called the king wasn't him, his
rhinestones fell from the tree, the Elvis impersonators
stood in a pagan circle around me.

Copyright 3.16.2010 Ms. Sage Sweetwater, Celebrity firebrand lesbian novelist