The Funeral

The Funeral


Nothing should be faced alone, especially grief,

that inevitable and immediate force. The guilt

following. The selfishness. I hate wearing a suit,

the empty words of strangers. “So-and-so

meant so much to me,” they lie, affably.


The urge to scream, muffled in the deluge

of cold cuts, cold meat delivered in drowning

bounties to the front door, where strangers ring the bell.


Family comes in the back way, unannounced,

welcomed invasions. They know where things are,

and put on a fresh pot of coffee,

knowing it will be needed.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s