Iris Litt
The guy in charge of the cemetery
said I would like this site.
It has a seasonal view, Mead’s Mountain in winter,
and you can hear the stream year-round.
We laughed because we were living proof
that most people can’t imagine being all dead,
I mean, really thoroughly totally dead.
So I wrote him a check for $700,
my rent for eternity.
Yes, I like it here
and I don’t have to write any more checks.
But, as you can see, I refuse to stop
writing poems.
Iris Litt, a lifelong poet, passed away this past May at the age of 94. She was writing up until the end, and would be very gratified to know this poem was being published posthumously.