For my grandchildren who can read: New Poem

For my grandchildren who can read


I am no longer in the front row for life.

I’ve got the cheaper ticket for a seat at the back,

but can’t stand up to see even a little bit

of the whole thing.


That’s why I had the ‘tat’

done on Saturday.

Black and fat on my bony, unattractive chest.

The nice tattoo man didn’t bat an eyelid

and I didn’t wince, not once,

while the gun stamped its mark on me.


I don’t want to be held up

when I want to see what’s beyond,

when I’m ready to go.

Death shouldn’t be a great achievement,

that takes forever

because nobody will take notice of the


Or the PTO on my flipside.


I don’t want to come back

to hear water drip, eat everything mashed.

and make impossible demands

only to watch eyes roll while they figure out

how to tell me it can’t be done.


I made this choice before you were even blips.

Life wouldn’t be a miracle for me,

If I came back after I’d died.


So make sure people look,

so I don’t.