Let the ghosts of trees

Blanket over me

Let them scent my clothes

With balsam histories

Let a circle of crows

Cackle mysteriously

Let them peck my bones

Throughout this eulogy

Let my blood kin know

I remember

How we left them in the muck

Of our cold white embers

And how the whiskey flowed

How it cooled their tempers

Tell the bible and the belt

And all its trickster members

Let the driftwood wind

Wash me out to sea

Within its countless sand

My anonymity

And think only of the moon

When you dream of me

Let those birds of prey

Complete my rosary