Poetry

My Naked Funeral

A Sestina

2 min read

1 hour ago

Listen

Hear me when I say this — please don’t
roll your eyes, please don’t just pretend
to listen. If you drop the ball and get this
wrong I’ll haunt you every day forever.
I mean business. Don’t screw with me.
So, this is how I really want it done:

First, everybody’s naked — done
up in Nature’s finest — Hey, don’t
argue. Just write this down. Now, me,
I’m naked, too. I won’t pretend
that that’ll be a pretty sight, forever
burned into the mourner’s minds, but this

baring of our common flesh, this
shedding of pretense, Emperor’s clothes undone
to scars and moles, to pigments that forever
reveal us all as equals– these don’t
let anybody in the room pretend
the dirt will call them any less than me,

that death belongs to vulgar men like me,
but visits not the worthy few. This
death that rich and poor alike pretend
is someone else’s problem, life done
wrong or bad — That just don’t
fly before the naked truth…