When my breath has been exhausted and my will to live is gone,
Just chop me up and add me to your garden compost pile.
Smash my bones into bits and my flesh into hamburger for the grubs. I’m sure they will enjoy the extra protein.
Mix me in with your banana peels and your cherry pits,
The end piece you didn’t want from the loaf.
It will all become the fire for your daffodils, and the juice in your tomatoes.
What is left will become your biggest zucchini and your spiciest jalapeno.
My viruses will become your sweetest rose and the fig that you forget to pick that feeds the beetles. My body longs to live in the topsoil, feeling the sun and the ladybugs.
No stuffy coffin for me. The thought of embalming fluid makes me itch.