A Few Days after the Funeral
by Ken Hada

Only silence remains
absence follows everywhere
awaits my arrival
rides my back – I bend
broken, dull, everything
seems plastic if not ephemeral
peaches are sour
salt has no savor
I’m losing weight unaware.

What I would give
for some chatty well-wisher
to say “God Bless You”
one more time – so I could smile
and hate them for their concern,
for their piety, so I could nod
numbly and stare blank-eyed
at the collar of their white shirt
or black blouse.

I want to hear them clear their throats,
stumble at their words again.

It’s too much, it’s too much
to hear a boy’s laughter
to undo the dying – so anything,
anything to drive out this damn silence.

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