when i'm gone, forty
days shall you
weep. dream of me
when you sleep.
read eulogies off
lavender scented
paper, as the
audience sobs in
sync. speak of me
with fondness, a
hand on your husband's
knee. place me
in little glass bottles,
and outstretched palms,
let them release
me into the raging sea.
and i shall listen
to their relief,
"i'm so glad it wasn't me."