A Funeral in July

She was Hispanic
He was his panic
And she loved him
Because he knew to be afraid
When she walked away
She could be who she pleased
A grown woman
Who no longer prayed on her knees
But wished she could know longer
What made them weak
And keep it
Place it within his voice when he speaks

A funeral in July
A sunny warm welcome release
A eulogy given by a diary clasp and tire tracks
They all just say wonderful things about him
With that hope resting under their feet
His first bicycle still leans in the shed out back
But who brought the pasta salad?

Towards the end
He saw the faces of the deceased
In everything he was trying to keep
We all know adults don’t exist
But that’s what we all choose to be
Living in debt
Like God isn’t free
And the Devil never sleeps

She was Hispanic
He was his panic
And she buried him
In a fifteen thousand dollar shoebox
In this city’s backyard