Poems & Essays

20 Apr


General/Column No Response

Son, when I die, bury me in a beautiful place. But save the flowers.
Save them for the romance, or the children in your life.
If neither romance nor children appear in times here and there,
buy the flowers for yourself for you were always my sunflower.
Instead, give me music. 
Sing near my grave.
Invite violins, harps and boom boxes once or twice just for fun – 
but yearly, when you visit (you will visit won’t you?) – 
just sing to me
so I can see the angels turn their starry heads to listen 
and I will say 
that’s my son
and you will know love is not far or found
but that it is near and within you and surrounding you. 
quite unlike a flower.

Katie King does her best writing at golden hour in front of the window wearing nothing but a bra and earrings as the Canada geese fly past. She has been published in the Telepoem Booth, Nude Bruce Review, Tiny Spoon Literary Magazine, Narrow Chimney Reading Series Anthology, Juniper House Anthology, Wizards in Space Literary Magazine, Menteur Magazine, Thin Air Magazine and at 8 years old, Highlights Magazine.

Print Friendly, PDF & Email

0 Comment

Would you like to join the discussion? Feel free to contribute!

Write a Reply or Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Baby Hairs April 20, 2020 For Ellie April 20, 2020