I wish I had been stoned

because I did not want to look into the casket
perhaps, with some help
I might not have seen her so vividly
or since, not as she was

I wish I had been as brave
as she was
holding her hand
and saying goodbye, no
she held all of us together

I saw all I could side-eye
and the guilt remains
something I could hold in my hand
not hers, cold and without pity

I wish I had been stoned, but
I had not touched the stuff
since 1985, then maybe
the colours around her
would have soothed us all

and I could put this back in the hope chest
with all the other dust

It is quiet now.

I cannot hear your stories anymore, how you would repeat the same one over and over once the dimentia had got you. Now you are not here to ask about the parts I have forgotten. How come you told me five times and I cannot remember?
It is quiet now, and I miss your grace, your smiling face, your eyes that inspired trust.
Do not worry, I will keep feeding Frisky while you are gone.

a worn Bible sits
snow falls on the fence posts
her smile on dark days

Dressing for a funeral

Like weddings
I think of people I know
and get choked up–
My black dress is too
tight.
Well you can’t wear
the red one.

Trying
to stay with the family
of he who died
and show my grief
at their loss
and I do, but

My mind wanders
at some point
between
We have gathered here
to say farewell
and
Give him oh Lord
your peace

To someone else
who I wish was here
to say goodbye
too