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Wintertime is for the Fox

This winter has cut into the numb spaces of my heart and forced me to grip life in its beating crescendo and live it nevertheless. I’ve experienced five deaths in the past few months which has caused me to pause and consider my own time left on Earth, however long or short that may be. It is a dynamic unknown.

Today, I researched my final resting place. For years, I have wanted a green burial with biodegradable casket and minimal marking. Also, I have wanted my end of life plans to be minimal and fairly inexpensive. The next task will be consulting with my husband on what he wants for himself and what we want for the pets when they go. Will we intern them at the pet cemetery or simply bury them in the serene backyard on the property we own?

I’ve been sorting out my thoughts about death in poetry as us poets are apt to do. Although I’m not ready to share a poem about a friend who passed away, I will share my personal final resting journey with all of you. Here is the first draft of Wintertime is for the Fox:

Wintertime is for the Fox



Five deaths into winter, I sit two days

unwashed and think about how I want to go.

Death itself not to be chosen by mortals but

the post-mortem parade for family must

be planned. I google embalming laws and learn

48 hours is the limit if I don’t want all my blood

pumped out and preserved like a factory donut.

Cremation beckons and I fight the image of

flames consuming my body for a fee.

I settle on a green burial forty-five minutes

from my house. Biodegradable casket

included in the lot price for $1,895 with

a pet cemetery nearby. It’s not convenient

but then, death never is.

About missyrogers

Lifelong Michigander, early 40s, craft addict, chihuahua collector, coffee drinker, recovering human being, bipolar I, electronic music lover, bullshit caller, 5' tall, my blood is organic, and I refuse to be anything else. I will write until I die.


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