I am stiff
Bored stiff
Perched upright
In my melamine coffin

I daresay
That I am a little late
To my funeral
But the roses

With their green knapsacks
Do not worry about
My timing
Just as the faceless pews

Do not worry about
The patchwork skin
Under my terrycloth suit
And the heads ducked in prayer

Look lulled to sleep
But they are just hiding their faces
From the sermon
That hangs like bat wings from the rafters

And I listen
With my eyes shut
And chemical breath
Resting on my tongue
 

The last rights

That are read from the stage

Give me a heartbeat

In their eyes