After reading a burial poem
I remember my Grandma Katie at the graveyard.
We Beiser children waited … after the service, after the people left.
We followed the truck to the site where her casket would be dropped.
I’d never done that before. It was real.
We stood there silently and reverently.
After the job was done, after the guy and his truck
and death equipment had finished the job,
but not covered her casket with dirt,
I was ready.
Grandma Katie loved pussy willows.
I had bought some.
I dropped the flowers onto her casket.
If I said a chant it was unknown to me,
deeply felt, deeply dropped
into the earth with Grandma.