AFTER MY GRANDMOTHER’S FUNERAL
All the other mourners are off
to the funeral lunch of ham,
scalloped potatoes and church-lady cake.
Only me and my husband with my brother
in the still bare spring cemetery
sharing a joint in his white Corvette.
Out of the shadows the gaunt-cheeked
priest appears in his surplice and cassock
proceeding in slow procession to
my Grandma still perched there
above her wide-mouthed grave.
He pats her casket, recites his tender
farewell, “Goodbye, Old Girl” and
drifts away like a last leaf left
after winter’s brutal sweep.
About the Author
Published by Stephen F. Austin University Press