Her wake
was in her parlor
The
Episcopalian priest elevated a host
of the
deceased's own noted cornbread
to Where Sheep May Safely Graze
on an
out‑of‑tune piano and the singing began
A single
steady voice first
then the
one‑note charlies their nasal
plural racket
Here
it's meal and salt and love
if not
the True Presence of Christ
that
makes a bread with taste
An old
woman dead by five
one
Sunday dusk and ashes by morning
then
lustily cheered by her daughters
with the
memory of her baking
and
every hymn sung every verse