Fire

When I die I want cremation.
When the spirit leaves this fleshy vessel-
torch it.
I won't miss it.

Hairs singe and recoil;
my fluids bubble up through my pores.
My flesh melts;
my bones blacken.

This world decomposes.
The dead fills land that corn could destroy.
We all hunger for corn,
yet we deny our body's thirst for flame.

Who is so holy that their decomposing corpse should possess land?
Do we lively debtors possess land?
Have our hands harvested and reaped
and sowed life into this godless soil?

Spread my ashes into a million smoker's trays
Sift me into your finest baker's bread.
Throw me over newlyweds
turn a white dress an ashen gray.

Ashes to ashes
Flesh to ashes
My soul escapes, traveling paths of smoke
drifts above our graven yards.