Original EveryPoem Studio house-voice poem.
Choose a genuine response. Counts appear only after several readers agree.
They asked me to say something. As if the right words exist.
The eulogy is the hardest poem: you must condense a life into minutes, make a room full of crying people laugh at least once.
We signed beneath your photograph, our names suddenly evidence that we had stood in that room.
Six men stand beside the hearse, each wearing the dark suit he hoped not to need this year.
My father's chair still faces the window where he watched the street as if expecting a delivery
The strangest part is the ordinary: how the fridge still hums its one note, how the bills arrive
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