In my bedroom, through the window I see
bare branches, the pond, remember picnics
of bread, tomatoes and lemonade and later
catching bees in jam jars, paddling in shallows.
Now, fat black crows line out on telegraph poles.
Here’s Miriam, we made our confirmation together,
she wore lemon, I wore navy, she taught me to say
“”fuck”” that year and Nana near killed me.
In the wake room people kneel, Aunt Nan gives out
the rosary, holy water and lit candles are present
on tables that sit each side of the bed.
I savor the cross Mam gave me one year.
White with exhaustion she caresses my face,
tidies my hair behind my ears. The undertaker
arrives, coffins me. Outside, people
wait to tip their hat to Death.