a man in iowa chose for his last meal one olive with the pit still in it it was just a little blurb i read about requests on death row the article said the man wanted to swallow it whole so once the coffin and the caves of his stomach decomposed it would take root in the dirt where more than a murder might remain on earth at his hands when it’s my turn i don’t plan on having to make a choice but for the lease to expire on this body in my sleep the last bit i chew maybe a little motion in my jaws between my teeth i won’t need a seed in my stomach for the wind to absolve me of my sins and to who it may concern i’d like to say i don’t want to be closed in a box, i’d prefer to be seared to a powder when they pulled that man down from the gallows they felt a tiny bump in his suit pocket maybe he couldn’t conjure up enough spit to heave the seed inside him the mortician probably threw it away but i like to think it bloomed in the landfill among all the egg cartons and bread bags and coffee grinds
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