Death Fantasies

just last night i went to a coffin maker

to ask for a cadaver reservation,

he asked me what I would prefer

the one that fits my size or the one with an allowance

i preferred the latter,

so i could have my little things with me

i could imagine myself lying inside the cadaver

wearing mother's Sunday dress,

people peaking before me,

hearing testimonials during my eulogy

and cold teardrops hitting the coffin's glass

i would like to be my own Cinderella when i'm dead,

beautiful and adored

make-up, red lipstick to hide the scar on my lower lip

i would like to witness the smiles of the people i love

i would like my favorite songs be played

when i'm buried, i would like my family to visit me everyday

I embrace death but death has no response,

i'm tired of needles, of cups and saucers, of filthy

chimneys, of street garbage, of other people's baggage

but i am already a family myself,

no siblings, no mother and father-

an impossible ideal death as they call it,

when a woman of my kind wishes

merely through her death fantasies