Hélène Cardona

At My Funeral

Nothing is born or perishes, but already existing
things combine, then separate anew.



Somebody spoke at my death
But I wasn’t dead.
People loved the eulogy,
Couldn’t get enough of it.
It wasn’t sad at all.
All this water came out of nowhere,
Mingled with air,
And the fluidity converted you from solid
To liquid to ether and back.
Cats sauntered in the condensation.
I remember looking for them.
Finding all the cats meant
There was no death.



“At My Funeral” is from Life in Suspension (Salmon Poetry, 2016).