My Name Is Not Mavis

When I Die

When I die, you will have to pry
Joy out of my clenched fist
And bury me deepest of any grave.
Because I will rise up from the dirt
Determined in my delight.
Negotiating with the gods for
More more more.

So maybe it is best,
To toss me to the ravens
That circle the distant hill.
The one with no path to the top.
Yes, do that.
Toss me to the ravens,
They look hungry for me.

I want you to come into my life
Like a car crash, a stranger I run into
When I round the corner too fast,
A lightening strike. A sudden hard fall
Off a bike I never should have been riding.

Otherwise, I won’t turn my head.
Otherwise, I won’t be interested.
Otherwise, I won’t still my wandering feet.
Otherwise, I won’t know it is you.

When You Are A Super Hero

Don’t throw yourself under the bus
To see if anyone will save you.
Keep your cape clean and ready
To fly into the wind prettily
When the gritty, torn, and mean
Just aren’t worth your time.

Easy miracles—
As obtainable as
Opening a tired fist.

Honoring Another Day

Following the casual desert trails
That lead to the morning mountains,
A friend walks with his little dog
Who is afraid of the dark. As is he.
I imagine him saying, with shaky reassurance,
“See, we made it through another night.
And the day is laughing. Not at us, but with us.”
And I imagine his little dog answers;
Trotting through the winter sage,
Following the faint scent of rabbits.