Bury me with a cucumber <br />and when they ask <br />Why did you do that? It’s not proper! Say, <br />She asked for it and who am I <br />to thwart her final wish? <br /> <br /> <br />Why cucumber you know, you grew the best; it will <br />serve well when I am on my longest trip <br />across the Sheol waters, lapped by waves, <br />or lying on hard ground beneath a tree <br />where even gourds are dry. Wet, cool, <br />I’ll quench my thirst. I’ll feel your skin, <br />and when you dream of Egypt, think of me. <br /> <br />Bury me with melons, <br />and when they say, <br />Not done, how dare you try <br />to do such rituals at this solemn time, <br />tell them that the seeds will be <br />as plentiful as stars in ancient skies, <br />and I will suck on melon seeds <br />when all that’s left are teeth. <br />And when you dream of Goshen, think of me. <br /> <br />Bury me with figs and put <br />an olive on each eyelid, <br />then when I <br />am drowsy old in humus with the bones <br />out of the deep rich soil will grow <br />a garden full of melons, olives, cucumbers, <br />and one good day <br />our grandchildren will sit beneath <br />the fig tree, scooping cool <br />and juicy melons, <br />enjoying cucumbers for you, and me. <br /> <br />LRH <br />7.4.08<br /><br />Linda Hepner<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bury-me-with-a-cucumber/
