In this afterlife
Where you buried me
The sun never quite
Rises over the trees
The birdsong’s all backwards
And animals are not shy

This oblivion is yours
So it has your style
(Mostly bare, that is,
Due to your atheism)

Through an interdimensional
Limn I can observe you
Laughing. Can you see my
Ghostly face across your
Mind’s eye where I lie
In this forgetful place?

Under the soft
Unfurling ferns
Where fireflies float by
And stars drift slowly
From the weeping sky
I wait like a violin

Here, I can still die
In this afterlife
You have fashioned for me
So I haunt up the memory
Of me by placing stones
In circles