Watching My Niece

At My Grandmother's Wake

Sitting in the same room,
I was caught in the storm 
as you danced in the rain. 

Flowers had life at the edge 
of your dress, daffodils bobbing
their heads in the wind. 

I wanted to dance and laugh
as you did, but I was clad 
in black and drenched. 
And my hands, they carried 
white lilies by the neck. 

Did you know that florists 
kept flowers in the fridge, 
almost frozen, after cutting them? 
That leaves and stems were 
cut and snipped as needed? 
They don't need much sunlight. 
They won't grow anymore. 
Still, we drop food in the water
and a penny in the vase. 

It crossed my mind 
standing over your casket 
with these flowers in my hands, 
everything we did for a few more days,
almost frozen, cut and snipped. 
Tubes in your throat
pumping food in a body 
that won't grow, cause it's dead. 

You were so swollen
and yellow, like the sun
that you hid. Your light, lost
in the pale fluorescence overhead. 

A second penny was dropped
in the casket. But a thousand pennies
couldn't grant our wish. 

I thought about everything 
we did for a few more days, 
and all she did was dance. 

Daffodils, like sunlight, 
glowed in the rain, 
and all she did was dance. 

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