1343
5.ix.23
4.249
things to do when you’re
dead
for godsbother, ghost writing
comb hair
brush teeth
pay bills
check balance
eyes tight
count to a
hundred, keep on
clean out the
bottom drawers
wash socks
even after
myself
largely am, as
you see
still pander
to a whim
carry on
be wombat to
the grave
swim walls
surrounded by
my making now
watch the
vultures
be a vampire
and when as if
so bitten
not on your
life
and over my
dead
yet rant
now then known
by heart
here’s a gust of
pyre
the body is
strange
we’ll have
none of that
for some
though it’s a long long queue
an obol for
your afterthought
I’m somebody
else’s afterlife too
make a note of
this, make it a memoir
hecatomb
fall short of
a further expectation
become a
finite quantity
just as are
the stars
and I, for
firmament, am one
find a lost
part later, much
pile up
be pickled
get embalmed
in mind’s eye
this waiting room
dust
and later, the
unravel
fall into
disuse
there’s
nothing that can’t be broken
take the
Fortunatus’ trip
where you’ve
been before
colour of bone
still we’re
here to mend
how full of
joy and wonder this
so every other
life
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