I do not recall who was there just that there were so many the church was overflowing. I sat there staring at the flag that draped the closed wooden womb where your body lay seperated from the living, in my case the half living. Father Becker, your favorite priest delivered the funeral mass in his gentle, comforting voice no comfort did I find. I could not grasp anything, or anyone around me. My heart, my mind, was up there on the altar beneath the flag inside the wooden womb with you.
Contraband Marriage, traveling along the hemline of loving after incarceration, is a love story written in lyric and free form, set in reality with a different ever after.
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