Afterward: a collaboration between the words of Madison Walker and Alana Cavnar.
At our funeral
everyone will have to smoke at least one cigarette,
and whether they let the ash fall in their laps 
is up to them.

Our faces will be painted like sugar skulls,
with flowers nestled between our fingers;
because even the living forget how sweet it is
to transcend this life.

The house ghosts will hand out little slips of paper
so our guests can write down 
at least one thing they’re ashamed of,
let it crumple in their hands and burn in Phoenix fire.

A bowl will be kept in a garden outside,
where each person will pluck a memory from mind
and place it there so someone else may take it.
Wine will be served as well.

Rarities will be abundant so that
each child will be given apricots and cream,
as a reward– or really, an apology–
for viewing their first cadaver.