My last will
The day I leave
and it will remain my carcass
burn it and collect the ashes
Put them in a grocery bag
(kraft paper, I do not like plastic) and rent a
tearoom
Place the bag on a table at
middle of the room and invite my friends to come dance around
By drinking and making fun of my
through reciting verses
and bellowing of bawdy songs
Then, store the bag in the closet and storage
ask my wife if she wants to join me
when his time comes
If she wants to, when the time comes
put her bag next to mine
well bonded to one another
So next spring,
pour the bags one inside the other
than a pinch of our ashes
that you keep in two separate jars
A morning Large sun
bring a shovel and looking round
a field of dandelions
Shake the bag vigorously to mix well
ashes
then pour it into the scoop
And one large circular motion
projecting them all around you
Thus we continue to see
rolling clouds and twinkling stars
while breaking our souls But
that's not all
among the ashes and spread
dig two small holes close
Pour into individual small pots
(those pinches, you remember,)
a seed, a single red poppy
for me
white daisy for my wife
Stir slightly to mix well
seeds with ash, pour
separately in the two small holes and cover with earth
Then sprinkle a little tear
enough to take the place of fertilizer
That I know my wife
daisy pushing
will curl around the poppy. And I
sign in front witnesses
Quebec, November 1, 2009
Jean Marcoux
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