Comments about Jessel Riley
I sit in the front row,
the honored widow.
I read my son a book; Green Eggs and Ham.
I shouldn't have brought him here.
He was pacing, scared,
searching for that far away place that I am in.
One by one they walk up to the box,
the alter that holds my lover's body.
In groups they come to me.
They seem unable to face me alone
perhaps his death is stamped on my face.
Awkward words spill from thier mouths
trying to wash me clean of my pain.
In a week, a month, a year this will be over for them.
I do not pray to the box.
Only I seem to know how empty ...