Wednesday, December 3, 2008

When I Die

When I Die

call the cooks
the old Indian women
who cook for every wake
buried to their elbows
in flour and lard
laying out flat
the bread the plates

"anee," the old ones scream
they weep like herons

pack up all my possessions
give them to mourners
waiting in line
give my bedding
to the thin-chested
give my clothes
to children without shoes
leave my house
only its windows

"enit," we say when we want it
we want it all

bury me alone
in old blankets

"bones," we whisper in stick games
we all get to choose

Sherman Alexie......from The Business of Fancydancing

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