Friend's Father's Funeral

So this is the end of a man.
A rectangle, ribbons, a concrete slab
dangling from cables and hooks
and the hunched up, bunched up, shivering crowd,
uncertain when to leave.

Everything that could be said has been said:
He was good.
He worked hard.
He never bothered anyone.
Only Christians go to Heaven.

Via con Dios, mi hermano.

I only cried once
and not for him.
To be honest, he looked fine to me.
But my friend, his son,
his face did me in.
the face of a guy who,
smiling for the camera,
has just walked backwards off of a cliff.

and then,

you know,

the sound of the wind

and the long, long wait

for the thing to hit the bottom.