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C.N.P Poetry 

  • Writer's pictureCathexis Northwest Press

Final Expenses

By: Jason Youngclaus

Not trying to be morose here,

Really — I’m not

This is a positive thought:

When I die my wish is that

My ashes be ground up into

A tenuous yet stern golf ball shaped mass, and

At sunset one fine day

Driven off the first tee at the Old Course at St. Andrews, Scotland

By the oldest surviving member of my extended family

With still functioning limbs

And a decent enough swing to get the job done.

A fine thought indeed I think as I settle back in my beach chair

Staring straight out into the teeth of the Atlantic Ocean

Sunburnt and ragged from yet another up and down round at Bass River.

Bang! Fore!


There go the remains of my remains;

Rocketed heavenward for a brief intermission of perfection

In a moment camouflaged by fog and leftover morning dew

Then violently wrestled back down

To the damp, sodden earth

Partly scattered into a prickly Gorse bush.

By first light I’ll be cut up in a mower

Into fertilized lamb shank by a hungover groundskeeper.

What better a final act as a

Semi-contained quasi-visible organism

Then to make that final balloon tour around the home of golf?

What a swan song!

And what better a gift to bestow

Upon the last surviving, fully limbed golfer in my family

Than to encourage him or her

To enjoy a luxury holiday, with other family members of course, in my honor

At less expense in both money and tears

Than would be my funeral

A sweet moon shot to oblivion

Courtesy of a blacksmith’s engineering

A mass of titanium

Curved imperceptibly to a 9.5 degree loft

This is what I firmly deserve, too

For introducing this diabolical gnome ridden game to you all.

But you all introduced me to another institution —- the church. 

So I’d say we’re about even.

Donald Ross would surely approve of this, I think to myself,

As I take another smooth, proud draw

From the blue, widgeted Belhaven in my right hand.

I hope my ashes make it across this great pond in that urn

In as pure a condition as the rich malty ale in this can did.


Jason Youngclaus was born in Boston, Massachusetts in 1983. He graduated from College of the Holy Cross in 2005 with degrees in English and Philosophy. In 2006, he moved to Washington Heights, Manhattan to work as a political operative. He has stayed in NYC ever since, continuing work in this field --- and forming the Brooklyn based indie rock outfit, Cuba in 2008. His poetry will appear in upcoming editions of Junto Magazine and Swimming with Elephants Publications. Follow him on Instagram @Jyc_music.

He lives in the Bronx, NY with his girlfriend Bella. They would own a Siberian Husky if they could, but their landlord won't allow it.


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