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brandon-c-williamsPoems
The funeral was OK the food afterwards was hardly any better Dressed up in suits and black, the stiff and uncomfortable feeling drifted across me like the cloud of cigarette smoke growing outside the front doors I wasn't prepared to deal with the situation at hand I always get the same old anxieties when I come to these things I've been to quite a few Do I say I'm sorry? or nothing at all? Do I smile? or act sad? We arrived slightly late so naturally all eyes on us ...at least for the moment Avoid eye contact. Keep walking. Family that I hardly know, conversations that I don't belong in the awkwardness set in like a slow-submerging needle, beneath my broken skin the injection drills in deeper scratching me from my insides, my hand shaking all the while as I drive it in myself The shame when I catch myself taking too many glances at the attractive cousin or some other random gorgeous distant relative that I never knew I had The pressure when the immediate family stops to talk my expression tightens how do i feel? my breathing malfunctions what do i say? I quickly recover by pointing to a black and white photograph purposefully placed amid the rest of the collage on the tilted white mat board thank God for those things The strong men cried the long-winded women fell silent a baby was whining during the service and was promptly escorted out of the chapel it is disrespectful, but with the tension in the room, who could blame him?
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Dec 31, 2011
Dec 31, 2011 at 11:13 AM UTC
Unpleasant Family Gatherings
The funeral was OK the food afterwards was hardly any better Dressed up in suits and black, the stiff and uncomfortable feeling drifted across me like the cloud of cigarette smoke growing outside the front doors I wasn't prepared to deal with the situation at hand I always get the same old anxieties when I come to these things I've been to quite a few Do I say I'm sorry? or nothing at all? Do I smile? or act sad? We arrived slightly late so naturally all eyes on us ...at least for the moment Avoid eye contact. Keep walking. Family that I hardly know, conversations that I don't belong in the awkwardness set in like a slow-submerging needle, beneath my broken skin the injection drills in deeper scratching me from my insides, my hand shaking all the while as I drive it in myself The shame when I catch myself taking too many glances at the attractive cousin or some other random gorgeous distant relative that I never knew I had The pressure when the immediate family stops to talk my expression tightens how do i feel? my breathing malfunctions what do i say? I quickly recover by pointing to a black and white photograph purposefully placed amid the rest of the collage on the tilted white mat board thank God for those things The strong men cried the long-winded women fell silent a baby was whining during the service and was promptly escorted out of the chapel it is disrespectful, but with the tension in the room, who could blame him?
brandon-c-williams
Written by
brandon-c-williams
American
Dec 31, 2011
Dec 31, 2011 at 11:13 AM UTC
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