placing the dead roses carefully back into
their tissues accomplished finality for Mary
who wanted no regrets, no tears for her family.
folded upon herself half way down the aisle,
she wept convulsively, her lithe
back rising and falling like
the sea.
we expected calling cards, neatly placed
on glass plates, the politeness of death
over-shadowing grief and pushing it
down, down, where exploration
could revive it, if only after
the last ceremony, the last prayer,
the last black limo crawled away.
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Grim read!!
Love Tinka