north carolina funeral

gold red green autumn tipped leaves and

spots

of mold along your heart

was the nicest mid-week i ever spent

on old haywood street, all seven hundred of em and

even the supermarket smelled like harvest-time

butter salt popcorn and sweating cans of beer

staring out the window screen

at the falling sweetgum leaves

rock n roll wedding chappel

the skeleton in bridal whites

old trio gathered round the bar, lamplight pink

plastic jesus on the radio

scattered grandmother’s ashes along the

large oak where she played by as a girl

so she’s there now among the roots again

the great, rolling hills of the cemetery by her name

think of it, still

rain, mud-slick yellow boots and

a funeral late