Last Will

Picking flowers as per my Last Will

When I die, take my body and organs. I don’t need them. Give them to people who do. Don’t put me in a box, a vase, especially don’t put me in a hole, I’ve been living in one for the past 21 years. I want you to plant flowers- but not that $40 bouquet wrapped in cellophane like an abortion fished from an inner-city back alley dumpster. No roses, lilies, any of the pre-packaged bullshit that is dripping in product placement. “We’re sorry about your friend’s passing, but thank you for using us as a means to make profit of their death.” What kind of a person puts flower on a grave? Is this a sick joke? Which organism can decompose the fastest? All that formaldehyde doesn’t give natural decomposition a chance. I don’t want a grave. I want a crown of weeds; fearless daisies, hopeful dandelions, potent goldenrods and clusters of milk thistle punctuating the braided stems like proud amethyst. Queen of decay. Lay leaves of nightshade on my tongue, I’ll sing you my prettiest song. Plant a hibiscus in each socket of my eye, so I don’t ever again have to see you while you cry.