Editor's Choice 46yrs Plus

When the body passes let us
be planted in fertile ground,
too tired to burn to fly with
quarks and atoms into a
yellow smoke-belched sky.

Let us slowly sink, like rocks
taking a breath as weary bones
come to rest, unhooking the self
from this temporal sagging flesh.

Let a spark glint from a coyote's
eye, that has quick-sniffed our
scent left behind, and in its core
our hearts beat to sustain the flame.

Thy and thou now expurgated
broken chains, our dust inscribed
on molting butterfly wings, light speed
rising, expanding, fueling holy star sight.