End To My Means
End To My Means
By Donna O’Shaughnessy
I will not lie down
in a sterile steel coffin
pseudo-satin sticking to my skin
Burlap wrap this carcass tight
carry me close, my three sons,
my soul daughter, across our hazel acres

Inform the county to change my address on the plat map

Deliver me from boll weevils
slide me into a dirt walled vault
prop me up sober and intent

I’ll watch carrion beetles march
with their back clinging, hitchhiking mites
what one does not use the other consumes

Do not cry, but croon alongside
the smoky throated Magicicadas at high noon
announcing my passing, convening the cootie buffet

Celebrate with the white moths
lining the edge of lover Earth like
Lilliputian sailors along the decks of
a carrier ship

Eventually, cover me,
with shovels of moist humus
and blooming fungus

Turn my composting limbs if you dare
rake loose my long silver hair
leave some strands for the mourning dove to line her nest

Do not fret
the coyotes’ discovery of my remains
their frenzied bone scattering across not so fruited plains

I am a traveler by nature

Donna O’Shaughnessy resides in Central Illinois with her husband and a mad collection of farm critters on a small, sustainable homestead. A retired hospice nurse, she decided to return to college at age 55 and is a recent graduate of the University of Illinois where she was awarded the Senior Quinn Award for Fiction. Winner of The Dermot Healy International Poetry Award in 2016 and highly commended in the iYeats Poetry Competition 2015, her work has also appeared in The Galway Review, Ropes, and After Hours. She is now working on her first poetry collection.

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