SECTION FOUR
POETRY PAGE TWO

sm

COLUMN THIRTY-FOUR, JUNE 1, 1998
(Copyright © 1998 Al Aronowitz)

FUNERAL

[When I first read this poem, I couldn't help but burst into tears.--Al Aronowitz]

it rained so hard the
day i buried
my mother.

the rain came down
cold and
the wind whipped it
up pretty good ...

it was only the driver
of the hearse
and me beside him

my mother
in the back
lying in the pine coffin

thanks to the welfare
department

who provided all of the
bare neccessities of
life
and death ...

and i kept thinking
at least mom won't
ever have to listen to
people wondering why she was
on welfare...

and making remarks
about her
and me
when i was growing up
with just a mother
and no father...

at the grave
they lowered her
and the driver of the
hearse and I
read a prayer,

and he looked a me and
said,

they go...we follow....

goodbye, mom
goddbye, myself  ##

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