This is an edited version of the poem that first appeared in Fountain of Youth (Vine Leaves Press, 2016), p: 68.
If I die tonight,
what happens to the particles I shed?
Would my skin, as ashes, mix with specks
dripping into our hemisphere
at pearlescent dawns? Will they
be picked up by the wind
in curlicues? Would dirt from
animal droppings and remnants of myself
flip-flop together? Will the sky be a blanket
bosom? The earth a pillowcase
of love? Will you tread with tempered soles
on bosons and atoms and whispers
effused? Would you breathe in
or trample on my subatomic soul?