When I imagine my own death
I don’t think much about the lift-off
or whether I’ll come back as a Greek man
or get my wings
I wonder instead
how everyone will try to make sense
of the little things
I left behind
like who is Robin
on that post-it note
with the illegible phone number
why did I own
so many calculators
and what was I planning to do
with that roll of cloth
all those purple birds and olive tractors
confused everyone
I will tell my husband tomorrow
just in case
none of it matters
you won’t find me there
I was careless with objects
I am here
fastened
like a safety pin
to your soul.