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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