when I croak

December 13, 2016 § Leave a comment

when I croak
bury me on a slope 

            at an angle 

I don’t want to have to crane

my neck searching


the rising sun
make me a cairn

of bottle caps and pencil stubs

a headstone of cork would be nice

folks might enjoy a convenient place

                  to leave a reminder
of the trouble

we caused
of the love we shared
or all those things

promised to myself
or to others

when I thought time was only

the concern of the incarcerated

or conductors

on trains

heading nowhere 
(c) 2016 Fred Whitehead 


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