Grave Dancer

I’m going to dance on your grave.

I will hoot and holler and stomp up and down

Rattling your bones in that bag of loose flesh that’s slowly melting off .

I will scream into the ground that was savagely ripped up

And then squished back in around that shiny box.

I will lay on my belly and read my favorite books

And laugh raucously at all the best parts.

I will swear and kick the somber stone at your head

And howl when I bruise my foot.

I will sit crisscross-applesauce on the grass in August

And sing Christmas carols.

I will do whatever I feel like doing

With little concern for what you’d think.

Because it isn’t your grave.

It’s mine.

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