When I am gone, distant from this green and woody earth
remember to leave tears out of my eulogies ~
they are neither wanted or needed
for I am in a kingdom no mouth shaped love can touch.
I am not laden with ageing flesh and cataracts,
nor feel tender pain through gums and fingertips.
The hand-me-downs have left my heel
like eels in lather;
cigar smoke breaking free from rats on a leash
and there the tides meet coral raptures.
The hands strike for armageddon,
slap for the dawning of human chains.
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