Dying Green

Should be a serious event.

Unexpectedly,

It isn’t

Yesterday we bought a plot

For my spouse

Right next to me

On a hill overlooking

A meadow shouting green

And a forest singing wind.

This morning he says,

“You realize we can’t divorce now.”

Oh dear, dying green

Is such a commitment.

First you have to agree to

Decompose.

Next you buy a wooden coffin

Or such that

Decomposes.

Next you sign you won’t

Embalm so your family must

Ice you until the service.

Picture this, Mom in the living

Room laid on ice like a fresh

Caught fish. They could talk to me

And I could answer. Wait-

The agreement. The cemetery

Needs time to dig your grave

By hand. They’re letting

The land restore itself

Naturally. My plot now has several

Bushes most of which will have to go

When I arrive for residence. But, I

Bargained and they agreed that one small bush

Could be replanted. I need roots

To tangle about my frame

And raise my skeleton up

To gaze on the changing land.

Meanwhile the neighborhood has a new resident.

A small stone caps the site of some cremains

Buried at the foot of my coming residence.

Poor soul now has no choice

Ashes and skeletons are grounded

Forever. Cheer up buried ash we’re all

Employed forever as

Fertilizer.

Janice Eskridge  © February 2018