plan of care

I've rubbed salve on the wound

bent limbs into healing postures

swallowed pills and grudges

and polished the amulets

all that is left is

to write poems

and hope they don't turn me out to pasture

before I've finished

if I go the way of joe hill

give me one memory to relive

for the rest of the afterlife -

take me back to the country road

at dusk with a sister

songs on our lips hallelujah in the dust

and our feet casting growing twins

shadows happily lengthening

with every step home.

give me the bird songs

and hands relentlessly guilty

with the juice of mulberries or perhaps elder and

give me a half-finished hope chest

which is all my grave need ever be.

grant me all this - it's all I ever was - I'll rest easy.

shake ten new hands for every damned scissor bill -

I'll rest easy.