Graves are a nuisance to upkeep, she said,
Burn me and chuck my ashes in the sea, you'll be free
So will I, I'll be the sea.
How lonely, I thought
How lonely it'd be to become the sea, and to have a mother
Who became the sea.
I cremated her and
sent the ashes to the Swiss.
How funny, I thought, her death plans were also
with the Swiss, but
she did not need assistance with
Her suicide.
When they knock I don't speak of
her death, instead I say:
She doesn't live here anymore.
She wanted to become the sea, but I paid the Swiss to pressurize her ashes
Into a diamond
Neither of us is free, how lonely
death is
How do I speak of it