I don’t want it to rack up the likes
even the nicer obituaries with pictures of charity work
and all the good things are cringe

I don’t want random fuckers grazing over my Facebook page
trying to work out what happened

there’s nothing wrong with that small corner
of page 37 in the Argus and Telegraph

of course in all likelihood there will be nothing
a short service in a municipal building
with a couple of officials

an easy-burn coffin encasing me
the dull murmurs only about itinerary

who is next and are things on schedule
all the while
my gaunt face fixed
wryly at the lid