This is a poem from my chapbook, a record of night. My soon-to-be ex-wife and I didn't talk much about what would happen when we died, but I thought about it. I find the idea that I could be a part of feeding the plants and integrating fully with the natural world after death to be very soothing. Our ashes won't mix together after death, but I still enjoy reflecting upon my ashes mixing with the roots of a chicory.
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