X) The Red-Haired Man's Last Rights

The Red Haired Man's Last Rights

Consign me to the red, let it lick
in yellow curls about my head; permit
its brutal craft to transfigure every speck
of fat and DNA, amino acid, bone

and when I fade to black, sweep me clean,
sieve me pure, take handfuls of my dust
and feel how soft I have become, the hull reduced to rust;
mix me with your fertile, kneading hands

into so much grain or seed, take the liberty
to feed my mash, my powdered frame to pigeons,
pass me through the guts of flying rats so that with
their shits, they'll rain me down as London's second blitz.