Poetry / Your Funeral (Analysis)

I didn't know you
you there dressed to kill,
mortician's makeup
hiding mottling signs of death.

I didn't know you at all
I, dressed in suit and tie
trying to find some hidden reason
to cry, to miss you.

You with Rosary beads
draped across cold fingers
like pearls
on a jewelers black velvet neck.

Six grandsons
carried you away
to a gaping hearse
garnished flower wagon.

Graveside rites
with babies crying
ones you never knew
like me.

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