I was seated
in the death black limousine
at the back.

Thirteen, sobbing.

Bagpipes played
the bagpipe songs.

Timely snow
covered our coats.

Our grandmother
mother
wife
stranger
lowered
into the ground.

Standing around, after
within skipping distance
of the Lake Erie shoreline
already thinking
of other things.

School projects
new boots
dinner.

Watching my grandfather
a short distance
across the graveyard,
alone.

Allowing the snow
to collect on his shoulders
in the same way
obtuse cottage roofs
and elementary schools
often do.

Surrounded by other
headstones, looking down
likely imagining
the body in the casket,
but younger and
on the couch,
animated,
recounting the day.

– Cole McInerney