Put a flag on top of my landfill
I’m gonna lay back and sink in it
I won’t hold my breath as I ascend
I’ll breathe and choke and sputter all the way up to the bottom
Into my nose stinging taste in the back of my throat
Open my mouth in a wide “O” to sing and let the soup gush in like a faucet that’s sprung a leak
So that I can stay put up at the bottom
Where I’m suspended it’s nothing but the sound of bubbles and a sharp whine
Everything is bathed in green
Except for the tiny silver fish that swims past my line of vision
And in the corner of my eye a silver pipe
Nothing gets incinerated
We just like to rot
In contrast I could be fast asleep in a pile of feathers enclosed by your arms
Both keep me tied to earth like ball and chain