ManicWorld Magazine

Build an altar when I die
Out of the tall grass, false
dandelion, out of wreaths
of our hair. Lay my body down
softly among bones and dirt
and fallen leaves. Hold me
gently for the last time while
you place me in this sacred bed.
I’ll dream of you for eternity,
Nothing left of me but memories
in your blood, cradled in your
Ventricles. The deer come
To this spot when they
Are ready to die. It’s quiet
Here, peaceful, safe. Grief
Echoes like a song in the trees.
This is the holy place where
I want you to bury my body.
Roots and stones and every
Kiss we have shared resting
Beside me when the soft
Veil of death covers my eyes.
Love me and love me, find
Me in quiet moments when
Cicadas sing in the trees. I will
Be there beside you while
The tall grass grows from my
Decaying chest.