Bea is Alone

Sitting down front

with her 

newly fragmented family,

Bea accepts the flag

expertly folded into

a triangle,

but doesn’t hear

the words accompanying it.

Back at the house

there is exhaled relief,

aluminum tins

with Mexican take-out,

and everyone’s eating,

and there is laughter,

but no one is laughing

too heartily.

In a few well-spaced waves

the mourners leave,

save for the lingering daugher

who stays another night,

and another still

until, at last,

she must rejoin her own life.

Now, finally,

Bea is alone,

not just in her home,

but for the first-time

in her adult life.

[For my moms, Pat, Winnie and Bea, all widows now.]