Mooring

When I die,
Don't bury me
Under corded sand
Of some barren prairie.
Tear out the stale pages
Of Shakespeare and Poe,
And cover me over with them.
Then rip out the heart
Of Emily's best.
Fold them, origami,
... Into a vest,
And a pearl,
And an Earl,
And a print-stained rose,
And let me moor, too, in Eden.

-jenn long