When I die,
live.
Sell the coat,
the bent crown.
Let crows split the coin
on stone.
Rake the letters,
the ash of my voice.
Buy cord, coarse cloth.
Raise a flag,
gray as bone,
edged with morning,
a marker for the lost,
straining in the wind,
a witness
torn, unsparing,
bright in its ruin.
Mar 1
Mar 1, 2026 at 1:55 PM UTC
When I die,
live.
Sell the coat,
the bent crown.
Let crows split the coin
on stone.
Rake the letters,
the ash of my voice.
Buy cord, coarse cloth.
Raise a flag,
gray as bone,
edged with morning,
a marker for the lost,
straining in the wind,
a witness
torn, unsparing,
bright in its ruin.
This is a 'flash 55', -a poem in exactly 55 words.
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