THE FUNERAL    
The heat, the smell of the yellow roses
A fly crawled across the back of my hand
Someone shifted uneasily in the front pew
A cough from the back of the room
The minister stood and cleared his throat
I watched his mouth move, his words invisible
I swung my legs and played with pop beads
Till my Aunt reached over and took them away

The heat, the smell of the freshly dug earth
An ant crawled across my shiny new shoe
Someone blew his nose into his white hankie
A stifled sob from the row behind
The minister stood and cleared his throat
His thin hair lifting in the hot breeze
I dug the toe of my shoe in the loose dirt
Till my aunt stopped me with a warning look

The heat, the greasy smell of the fried chicken
Everyone kept shooing and swatting at flies
Someone dabbing at their red, swollen eyes
A murmur of voices from the back yard
The minister stood and cleared his throat
Sweat beaded out on his brow and nose
I sat in a tree reading, swinging my legs
Till my aunt came and made me get down
Janice Kuykendall