Perfectly Preserved

When I'm dead and gone
will you put me where I belong?
not six foot under
or headed with a carved stone
but in a glass tank of formaldehyde
on a plinth
in the zone
Preferably placed perpendicular
in the Tate Modern Turbine Hall
where visitors can rest their eyes
and debate art
its rise and fall
Let them question who I once was
someone so specially submerged?
the perfect pickle perhaps?
perfectly preserved
For is it every artists aim
to extend himself beyond
those clichés painted on canvas
or words recorded in song