What would they say?
Have you ever thought of something
That you would like to see
After you have died?
Morbid perhaps but still.
I have just decided that
I would like a transcript of
What everybody I cared for said about me
On the day they burn or bury my body, and
The actual words, verbatim when,
The day they were told,
You know Snowy Whitter? Yes
Well he’s dead.
I bet you think you have a fair idea,
of who will say what,
but I’ll warrant you are
way off, way off the mark.
Take me on a day.
Please take me on a day,
When the wind blows inshore,
And blowing fearsome high.
The tide not in as yet but
It’s on it’s way
Whips up jockeys, on white horses
That feel no pain
Straining through rain and spray
To be in the vanguard
At the bay.
As the first do make the shore
Fills one’s ears with damp roar
First breakers smash
Some people dash, but we
We stay begin to laugh
The privacy that a storm bestows
The rolling clattering of stones on stone
Could be cobbles down a lane
Gulls let themselves be thrown around
Enjoying winds that they but man cannot control
So say you can take me on the next day
The next day the weather
The weather is that way
And I can make it there
Please say that is okay.
Dumpster Fire Press 