Pisces: The Destruction

Nicole Sandusky

Burial concerns me,
If a mistake were made, the
only escape would be
my fingernails.

Cremation is so final.
Hot tongues of flame
devouring the earthly form,
a barbaric bonfire of the body-
better bring some s’mores!

When I go, please be so kind,
as to store me in your home,
for just a week or two until
my flesh grows soft.
Just prop me up at the table,
or on the couch -
preferably with some
reruns of “I Love Lucy” on.
I promise not
to be a nuisance.

When you’ve had your fill
of my silence,
or perhaps my stench offends you,
strap me into the car and,
we’ll go for a daytrip.

If you would be so kind, deposit
me into the stream.
No need to supervise –
I’m quite buoyant.
Lodge me firmly against a rock,
or perhaps a beaver dam, and
then you, my dear friend,
are done.

Then the silt, which my cumbersome
form may have disturbed,
will resettle
at the bottom of the bed.
And the fish
will emerge.