You know how, when I was 25 and
you were 28, I used to tell you how
I wanted my funeral to be?

Well, never mind! Skip the roses
I said I wanted. Forget eccentric eulogy,
elegant in its efficiency.

Words, like flowers, wilt.
Even I will decompose in final
state of rest six feet under.

So I’ve changed my mind – my
prerogative you know.

I’ll take a painted box of pine
decoupagged with pictures of you
and me and baby makes three.

Ah, yes, so it was that that was then
and this is now, but it’s my damn funeral
and you can respect my wishes when I’m dead.

So, make me a project! Color my coffin
happy as I trusted we would be. Remember
me. Keep your promise; make it so.

We already agree I’m crazy – don’t
make me look sane when I go.

Speak not now of friendship forged
in wake of your early departure
from our sacred union. Set aside

for one magical moment long-running dispute
about who left whom and why. Erase words
like “commitment,” “vow,” “betrayal.”

Think only of a simple, decent resting
place where I shall wait, wait, expectantly
at another altar then for you.

Oh, fine. Yes, I know you don’t believe – but
grant me this indulgence, one last reprieve.

Dress me with a smile; place daisies
in my hand. I want to be ready.
Just say you understand.

Paint a picture of what we dreamed
of then, together and happy – illusion
or not. Toss your better judgment aside

for once. In this my final adornment,
I shall know (even if only from the grave)
how you loved me so.

Copyright Dawn Richerson, 2002

Art - Digital Designs by Dawn, Copyright 2002

The link below will take you to Dawn's published passion-powered poetry e-chapbooks. You can also search at this Amazon address: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/search-handle-form/104-5294762-4489535/creativerevoluti.