A shadow meanders across the lawn.
Inside, a murmur of mourners cram
into the condo dining room. Family
sit solemn on hard chairs that ring
the room, Ellen’s the bud in the crowd’s
flower, high-coloured from the company
and the plastic glass of wine her grand-
daughters refill for her. I see her catch
on gusts of remembrances. The rising
chatter buoys her, carries her beyond
this scene. The past week, surreal, lifts
like dream drapery. As she reminisces
her head tilts back. Just the way his
used to do. Her mouth opens to laugh
long and loud. She seeks his smile to share
this brief joy. A quick jerky scan round
the cluster of well-wishers yields no shape
to fill the shadow; her eyes become chasms.
