For my Pall-bearers
I have to share a secret
which is not in my will
with those who bear my coffin.
There will be a flower
in place of my heart:
a gift from the woman
who taught me love’s religion
in my days of curiosity.
Pluck that flower from my heart
before I am buried .
Cover my face with its petals.
One petal ,too, for my palm
with its vanished lines.
Through that flower
I long to come back.
I had no time to tell you this truth
the moment before I died ;
it flowed off into death
with the cold water you offered me.
Or else,
just leave the coffin open,
now that I have befriended the dead.
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