Burn The Coffin

Burn the coffin

I want to finally rest

when I am in the still arms of the earth

No more pages to turn

no more phrases to churn

asleep with no burden

of rhymes, length or verb

Finally at rest

Wrap my still cold body

with layers of memories

and not wishes to return

for my leaving is inscribed in the coffin’s burn

May it be that the only poetry I’ve ever recited

be heard in the shedding of the chrysalis

when the sky unwraps the butterfly

that rests peacefully mid-flight

on the branch of the tree earmarked to be my coffin