Requiem: Tierra del Fuego
What shall I do
with you when
you die? Shall
I cremate you
and carry you
around in a vial
around my neck
or in my vagina?
You should make
your wishes known.
Shall I slice my
cheeks with
your razor cut
your image
into mine
tattoo a selfie
onto your tomb?
You should make
your wishes known.
Shall I mourn
you with tears
or sighs
considering
the fact that I
used to sob
after we
screwed?
You should make
your wishes known.
Shall I call your
boss your barber
your doctor your
dentist? Shall I
tell your students
you’re inside
my insides,
on sabbatical?Shall I dance
with your ghost
on the porch at
noon? The
neighbors
will think
I’ve gone
mad. Perhaps
I have.
Shall I craft a clever
eulogy and not speak
it? Shall I serve
your friends bologna
sandwiches on rye
with Gulden’s
mustard, since,
though you would
never admit it,
that was your
favorite?
You should make
your wishes known.
Shall I sleep
with your
brother
or your
wife? Who
will share
the most
secrets?
Shall I take you
to the taxidermist
and have
you stuffed?
I can keep you
in the kitchen,
slather steak
sauce on your
stupid lips.
Shall I bury you
with your pen,
the one I’m using
to write this
poem?
You should make
your wishes known.
I’ve awakened to
you not awake.
This is something
that would have
amused you.
Shall I bury you
in a coffin covered
with the flag
of Argentina,
since you’ll be
heading south
for the winter
spring summer
fall? You’ve
made it toTierra del
Fuego at last
you bastard.
.Shall I sit
shiva until
your best friend
comes over,
drunk, and tries
to fuck me,
like always,
and reveal
to him that your
Jewishness was a
ruse to seduce me?
Shall I sing
that song
you always
sang in the
car, the one
you knew I hated,
but sang anyway?
Shall I set it to
Amazing Grace
or Pop Goes The
Weasel?
You should make
your wishes known.
Dried tears
are etched
into my
cheeks. A
train could
ride on those
tracks. And
probably
will.
Shall I lie with
other men?
Which ones?
Are there
others?
And all those
books you never
read on the shelves
you never dusted?
Who will they
now impress?
Shall I act stoic
or vengeful? Be
Jackie O or Jackie
Chan? Shall I
recede into sweet
grief or spring
into sham
hysterics?
And what of your
clothing? Shall
I wear it over
mine? Shall I
wear it under
mine? Shall
I wear it instead
of mine? Shall
I burn it and
light your leftover
Camels off the pyre?
You should make
your wishes known.
There is
a cold
bruise on
my shoulder.
Did your
ghost bite
me in my
sleep?
Tell him he
missed his aim.
Shall I drink
coffee at night
and wine in the
morning?
Everything
is upside
down.
Shall I spread
your ashes
on a Ouija
board and see
if they come
up with Yes?
You should make
your wishes known.
In our bed
there are
stains. I
can no
longer tell
the difference
between your
blood and mine.
