The Final Burp.

someday, in the wake of my death,
a number of people will gather at my
gayly-anticipated funeral,
and all together vomit into
my statutorily dug grave.
then all together they will partly disrobe
and shake and wiggle,
and flap and wag their dearly beloved genitals
around the rim of my hole,
and perform the actions fit for them, my friends
and relatives.

and i, from way on high,
in the crook of the muscular arm of Jesus,
above the prophets subordinate to him,
will peer down upon these dead observers
and moan for the hellish waybelow
i avoided with ease,
but which surely
awaits them,
for they have been so foul,
and cannot dance,
and forgot my plea and desire to be burned dead.