The Mad Agriculture Journal
June 01, 2020
Do not bury me
far from the leaves of the forest floor.
Let me decay quickly
to live on in the lives of others.
Lay me down among the trees
at the headwaters of Basin Run,
the place I took most from.
Let birds tear me asunder,
called to the perfume of decay
that rides the rare wind
touching the heart of the forest.
Disentangle me bacteria, into minerals,
so that I can nourish the plants,
repaying my debt to the Menhaden.
Let the rain run me deep into the soil,
so that some tulip poplar
may find, lift and form me
into a gigantic flower
to be loved by a bumblebee
in search of nectar.
And should I escape the hunger of the forest
and run with the water toward the sea,
may the oysters make good on my remains.