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When they take my brain out of its casing it will be fluorescent and the mortuary assistant will have to stand back because it will dazzle so brightly– it will be heavier than a watermelon and shot with gold I want them to remove everything I want to be an empty shell They won’t be able to give my lungs away and my heart won’t be strong enough to get someone through the next decade but I want to be packed with gauze and something to take the smell away When I die I want to be clean I want someone to say I am the cleanest woman they’ve ever examined I want them to oil my brain before they put it back in Loosen my tongue and stitch me with catgut and parcel string Because I won’t be coming back butterflies will avoid my grave, my agitated foot will cease to tap and every time someone plays my favourite song my heart will beat twice as fast in some poor person who they didn’t tell about my heartache, its poor diet of pain My kidneys won’t miss me, my liver is in top notch condition crushed velvet all the way through I don’t want them to take my eyes, they’ll roll in the back of someone’s head My arms and legs will fold clumsily inside the box with the heavy lid like a puppet afraid of its master