row me out in a Clinker. Didn’t plan,
not a thinker. Pack a bottle
of *** with me. Dress me in
a red silk negligée. Around my neck

place a lei of purple flowers. Bury me
out at sea/seventeen hundred hours,
when the sky is a shy marmalade. I laid out
in the sun, as a young thing. So, my skin is

tawny. They say I’m a bit scrawny. Remember
me as a woman on fire burned by the licks of
her flames/none can tame. I lived/laughed and loved
a few. Where I’m headed? Like in life, I haven’t a clue!