The original sin

Is being young and forgetting

All the “My, you’ve grown’s”

And “I remember when’s”

Whispered loudly after

Expedient respect before the coffin.

(Who are THESE people?}

They are good strangers,

Who comfort and console,

While I stand in the corner

The coffin an arc in my sidelong eye.

With nothing to place before the widow,

I am silent,

Uneasy,

And very very imprecisely sad.