As an introvert, I haven’t been to many “ceremonies” (or events or parties) in my life, and I wasn’t about to write on the topic of weddings and graduations. I don’t remember any of the music at my father’s funeral. I suppose that in and of itself could be a topic worth exploring–at some point. But I’ve written enough about my father. A whole book, in fact. At least half the book.

Instead, I used the prompt as a jump-off to explore the desire to preserve consciousness in the face of inevitable death. You know, typical lighthearted stuff.

Poem prompt: “Today’s daily resource is El Museo del Barrio, a New York City museum focused on the experience of Puerto Ricans and Latin Americans in the United States. The museum’s website provides highlights from its permanent collection, as well videos exploring the art and artists featured.

Last but not least, here is today’s prompt (optional, as always). Music features heavily in human rituals and celebrations. We play music at parties; we play it in parades, and at weddings. In her poem, OBIT [Music], Victoria Chang describes the role that music played in her mother’s funeral. Today, we challenge you to write a poem that involves music at a ceremony or event of some kind.”

Let Me Keep the Awe My Mother Gave Me

I'm addicted to oxygen and saving spiders. 
I hope there's air in the afterlife. 
Rather than a dirge, I hope I hear 
Mansell's Death is the Road to Awe 
anointing my celestial cochlea 
as I ascend the wispy cirrus clouds, 
angelic spirits whirling a welcome. Oh, Om, Amen. 
Give me Jupiter up close and breathable. 

All the spiders that lived another day 
will crawl over my grave with their own 
ghostly funeral march. 
Above them I shall grow feathers 
and a steady, solid mandible 
for the beak-rubbing ritual 
welcoming me as another bird, lintu, pájaro, vogel, 
animal, an anomaly, into Real Narnia. 

By the scarlet cardinal I will be seen 
as his tawny mistress, and he will offer me 
spices the squirrels couldn't handle 
dusted on a single sunflower kernel. 
Upon the taste, my eyes shall open 
sparkling in sempiternal starlight 
with all the knowledge and philosophy I didn't earn 
enough years to learn.