Elizabeth Romero: O’Brien’s Funeral Parlor

(for D.H.)

The family, humble and resigned as a canvas jacket:

Their faces full of a still, impassive sorrow

The funeral parlor

A big room punctuated by large oblong pillars

Donna’s casket at the end

Surrounded by four flower arrangements

A framed photograph of her when she was young,

Sweet and vulnerable

Faded, from the late Sixties, a girl

Long, honey-colored hair

Light green eyes.

Her skirt pulled over her knees, anchored by her hands.

She is wearing saddle shoes and white socks.

Her head is tilted forward.

She is looking up at the camera shyly

Pleadingly.

How to reconcile this

With the bloated, foul-smelling woman

We tried to tend and care for.

We called through the closed door:

Will you take your medicine?

Are you there?

We didn’t see her but knew she was there.

A pile of tea bags stacked

Wetly in a saucer.

A dusting of sugar

On the kitchen counter.

Diabetes, mental illness,

Obesity. Back at the office

We file away her photograph:

There are those same pale green eyes.

Just asking to be left alone.

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Copyright 2024 Elizabeth Romero

Betsy Romero is a poet who lives in Somerville, Massachusetts.