SONNET: The Cemetary

if i am alive when i wake up
keep me in the cemetary so my goosebumps
arrate the lawns—let my body dry the land
as the salt from these wits dry my lips.

if a little girl shall find me, tell her i
want to be left there; tell her she can join me
but she must go home before dark
and tuck herself into bed—though she may
tuck me in and kiss my forehead before she leaves.

i made a bed out of leaves and a i rest my head
upon four pine branches, needles and all.

tell her that my breath is enough to keep me warm
and she should take one in, just so she
can feel it only once—never again.

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