Will & Testament

Shannon Cor

if what i think i have kills me,

take a couple shots of vodka and

go figure out what you really like.

take my climbing shoes

out of your closet and

arraign them on my feet.

have the mortician spray me with lavender,

and tell him not to paint my lips red —

bright colors never looked good

on me, anyway.

if what i think i have kills me,

buy yourself a coffee at closing time

and sit until street lamps

drown out the stars;

paint your nails a white-purple;

don my silver rings

and shimmer like rain against glass

and give that boy down the street

a hug and slap upside the head.

if what i think i have kills me,

look for satellites at twilight

or turn your face to the setting sun:

perhaps you'll see me dance among the stars,

and hear music drown out the night.

just plant daisies on my grave.

promise me vinca, love.