MY Funeral by Freddy
As another hand is dealt,
They will pause to say,
"He's dead? And are deuces wild?"
So easy to see the end coming,
Whether I began at the moment
The seed slammed into the egg,
Or at that moment, ex utero,
When I took my first breath.
At either point, the clock
Started ticking; those who arrive
Must also leave. So I will go.
I will be missed like a fist
Withdrawn from pail of water.
The hole remaining after the fist
Is removed will be my legacy.
Will there be two white horses
In a line to parade my casket
On a fine cassion past mourners
Or will I be rolled in hole
Ditched in a mass grave?
Will the ceremony drag on,
Characterized by sobbing and aching,
Or will there be a collective sigh
Of relief: Will any of it
Make any difference to me
Or anyone else? The breath gone,
What will I care? I will have shed
My mortal sheath. Pain all gone,
Ecstasy, too. The clock will stop.
Let me go: I will have done all
The damaging and dazzling I can do
For one lifetime. I'll be free!
But be sure to put pennies
On my eyelids, an old street custom,
Just to see if I'm faking again.