The three of take our walk in the cemetery
chatting about burials, cremation, headstones
Always the educator, one says she desires
a monument of historical columns
Tuscan, Doric, Ionic, Corinthian
though her family graveyard is far from civilization.
One says her husband will be wrapped
in a shroud, has pre-paid
his green burial on a friend’s horse farm.
She plans only to continue
her rigorous exercise routine. I joke
that like my mother, she expects
never to die.
I wish my ashes to be scattered secretly
within my favorite nature sanctuary, a leafy celebration
where friends are to recall my good fortune
at having lived so long following my transplant.
Later, a jolt
Some day there will be only two of us walking
And then one
And then none