“First Funeral in Four Months” and “On Visiting Aunt Rosa & Car Racing”

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First Funeral in Four Months

I’m a little out of the loop.
Before the service, I buy breath mints
instead of flowers.
I wear the wrong shoes.
I leave my facial tissue in the car.
Inside the chapel, an usher offers me
a seat. I decline and fake like I got it,
like I can stand in Marc Fisher heels 
for the full service. My feet burn
during the opening prayer. I no longer
care about bowing my head
and I pray with my eyes open.
I’m trying to say everything blurs
and burns no matter who dies.
Once, my aunt told me she loved
funerals. I like crying, she said.
And she has a point.
I see the beauty in people
releasing what’s tucked inside.

On Visiting Aunt Rosa & Car Racing

Looking just like your mother,
my Aunt says when she sees me
and I wonder how she does it.
You know, look at me,
see her sister
(who was once here
all alive, gap-toothed
and long-legged),
and still invite me in her home.
I don’t know if I could
face the face of my dead sister.
Today, I’m here for my mother’s
stories. The ones she took
with her when she left.
I want my Aunt to tell me
about my mother’s modeling days
and how she learned to cook
and when she learned to braid
and who taught her how to swing
a bat, her hips, a tennis racket.
We drink sweet tea and munch
on roasted cashews.
My Aunt tells me about her days
in the Powder Puff
and how she loved racing cars
and how my mother loved
to see them cars go!