In My Afterlife, I Am Brightest

Phuong T. Vuong | Poetry

after “Untitled (Chauffeur Funeral),” by Daisy Patton

Golden cellophane bows on wreaths, floral
vines transgress the casket’s ivory
satin lining. The floor, a jade-colored rug,
covered in bouquets. Purple palms
form a triangle framing the dead. After life,
there is this: proximity of black
lace, a sheer lavender curtain’s ruffle. My spirit
rising as rambling branches in this funeral
parlor. I trespass
the composition. I am
beyond. It’s true what they say—
enrapt, I watch you from here. Against the margin,
a climbing rose wraps tighter, determined,
invasive, celebrated. See
how in death, I infiltrate.