I was at the funeral of my husband’s grandfather. It was an odd experience because I’d only met him a few times and was witnessing everyone else’s pain rather than feeling it myself. So the next few poems are about what I observed/felt during that.
22:39
Scramble to replace scuffed shoes
that fails in emptiness.
Turn around the bag
so its blank, respectful
for the day of mourning,
where personality is not allowed.
Scribbled Thoughts 