Girl and Goat 3

By Alan Passman

Bury me under a clove tree when I die
with marijuana around its base while
the periphery is penned in by jasmine
bushes. Perfume yourself with the third,
smoke and eat the first and second
because the roots will pull nutrients
from the shell I’ve left behind instead
and for brief moments,

I will transubstantiate when sprayed
on napes of necks and wrists, when
ground up and sprinkled, when
ripped from a bong, when
drank in mulled wine.

Let me travel more deep and intimate
inside of you than I ever could’ve when
alive. Let me transcend the boundaries
of time and space as a sustainable
resource that keeps you going, calms
you down, soothes and warms you,
allows you to laugh and reminisce.

Let it all flourish, long after I cross
the threshold into the unknown,
into the fabled other side. Hold
a smoke to your lips that I might
once again kiss them from beyond
the beyond. Make me not a sepulcher,
but a shrine for our children and their progeny
to picnic by. Remember me as a pleasant aroma
on the wind that you can inhale and hold in when I’m gone.

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