My Final Masterpiece

When I die, don't let me lie in some godforsaken hole dotted round with frosted stones; arrange for me an alibi – through the purifying fire let love guide my spirit home. Then stir my ash in coloured paint, remembering how I loved the stains colouring my hands and knees. Then load me in a cannon, please – prime a canvas, four by six and fire the paint-and-ashes mix. So may my final masterpiece portray my ultimate release, not to be misunderstood – my heart's creation will be good.