Waiting Room For The Beyond

(for Jo Ann)

The leaves flared high in shades of brown
to match the January ground
you sank into but we couldn't stand to see;
instead we crowded in a chapel
speaking lowly
while icy winds rattled the eaves.

And strangers squeezed
at shoulders forging comfort,
diversionary memories on their tongues
to distract us from the future
that the present had just undone.

In a corner Father's trying
to keep himself from crying
and his sister's keeping pace
with the itinerary:
visitation, mass, then sandwiches
in the church basement
post-cemetery.

Through clouded conversations of the past,
drinking etiquette and plans
to stay in touch
I was asked how I was doing
by a stranger.
And though I didn't say it,
afraid it wouldn't make much sense.
how I felt was like a shadow in a Register.