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The Curse

 Oh, lay my ashes on the wind
That blows across the sea.
And I shall meet a fisherman Out of Capri, And he will say, seeing me, "What a Strange Thing! Like a fish's scale or a Butterfly's wing.
" Oh, lay my ashes on the wind That blows away the fog.
And I shall meet a farmer boy Leaping through the bog, And he will say, seeing me, "What a Strange Thing! Like a peat-ash or a Butterfly's wing.
" And I shall blow to YOUR house And, sucked against the pane, See you take your sewing up And lay it down again.
And you will say, seeing me, "What a strange thing! Like a plum petal or a Butterfly's wing.
" And none at all will know me That knew me well before.
But I will settle at the root That climbs about your door, And fishermen and farmers May see me and forget, But I'll be a bitter berry In your brewing yet.

Poem by John Berryman
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Book: Shattered Sighs