Efi Hatzimanolis #35 Garden of Paradise

If I should die before you, love,
bury me in the garden and plant a Hill’s Hoist 
over me to mark the spot. I want a new one,
not the old one which is unstable and missing lines,
and not in the same position please.
For my grave, I want a sunny spot,
a position for all seasons, for you
to peg your underpants and socks,
like low hanging fruit,
and I want brilliant white sheets flap
flapping in the wind
- don’t shroud me in those damn fitted sheets -
so that I can unfurl my angel wings
of one thousand thread 
Egyptian cotton,
and stay out overnight,
with the tawny frogmouths and the fruit bats, 
and the snake slithering through your smalls.
In the morning, no need
to launder the soiled sheets,
the bat shit is there
to bring luck in love.