By Joshua Klak
i think my corpse will be
indistinguishable
from the flowers
growing beside
the interstate
i think i’ll die in May
and let the rain reverse
and pull me into the clouds
where i belong
where i can travel
the earth
and feed the sycamores
and quench the thirst
of rabbits
and harbor tadpoles
and give new life
to the world
and maybe rinse the ash
from underneath my tongue
i think i’ll die
while the ground’s
still soft
so my dirt blanket
is warm
as i seep into
the earth
so i’ll have a full year
before sprouting up
as a staghorn sumac
before holding the wild wheat up
with my root fingers
before i’m squeezed
into a mountain
and given a second chance
to not erupt
i’m not sure if i’ll
be conscious or slumbering
or both
or neither
but i think
i hope
that my best intentions
will be enough
Josh Klak is a junior majoring in English with a Creative Writing concentration at the University of Wisconsin–Milwaukee. He enjoys reading, writing poetry, and short stories.
