Anatomy and Physiology

by Dani Kuntz

When I die, I don’t
want the cat’s papillae
to tear me apart.

I don’t want my flesh
to be stripped
from my bones.

I don’t want the maggots
that gather in Henry’s pocket
to burrow into my orifices.

I want the cat
to smell the decay
rising from my body.

I want it to
walk in its prints
so as not to wake me up.

I want it to
pass through my skeleton
wherever its head can fit.