I imagine they find my body
suspended in the air
and at my feet, a note:
No Funeral. Too Expensive.
The coroner pulls me out of the oven
but they don't pay the fee
to collect my ashes:
No Funeral. Too Expensive.
And my spirit mingles
with other, forgotten spirits,
no longer a burden.
No Funeral. Too Expensive,
I told you, but you replied
with the image of your hands
sifting through the silt and soot:
You forget how much you mean to me,
that if you throw yourself away
I'll come looking for you.
About the Creator
Reid Christmann
Filmmaker | Designer | Composer | Creator
Work in videography and editing, novice screenwriter branching out into poetry and short stories. Check out my other work at reidchristmann.com
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