God, loose me from this carcass,
This frame to which I’m bound.
I trust it’s served some purpose -
Mundane if not profound.
Now, my sojourn is over,
And I’ve but one complaint -
Why must I bide neath clover?
Heaven, this surely ain’t!
The fine coffin is cozy,
Satin lining quite plush.
My neighbors are not nosey,
And no one’s in a rush.
But it seems rather foolish
Rotting here under ground -
Cadaver, gaunt and ghoulish,
Making no move, no sound.
I find rites of interring
Barbaric and bizarre.
I crumble here, preferring
To be crisped black as tar.
I recommend cremation,
Though it’s too late for me.
I’m here for the duration -
Long time – eternity!
© Richard McCusker