DEATH RITUALS

August 2, 1979

Seated around the kitchen table
with crackers and cold tea cups
sprawled in this strange
and sparse communion

‘He was only 20 feet from shore,’ Harris says
‘We don’t really know what happened’

‘They saw him’ … That from Uncle Sim
‘Looked back just in time
to hear him yell and see
his hand go down’

‘They’re all pretty bad,’
Harris drains the last dregs
from his cup now cold
‘But she’s the worst
Just sits there crying
Won’t eat nor go out’

We were celebrating one cousin's
wedding when we heard the news
Now my mind grapples for this one
only 19, the baby in the family
His face refuses to come back

In this foreign world I sit in a corner
Heavy and weary on my knees
a story and its many strange
faces surface in wild words
Carved by its own ancient rite.