The Funeral

We don't laugh at funerals
supposedly to show respect for the dead

Tears are acceptable
even from men,
but standing by the coffin,
remembering the body inside alive,
seeing through polished wooden panels
a shrunken, twisted, empty bag,
listening to the sepulchral organ,
the scent of flowers
that perfume of the dead,
feeling laughter bubbling within,
how do you feel?
what do you do?

Would my grandmother understand?
say "don't fret dear, it's better this way"
understanding the cosmic absurdity,
the misty unreality of standing
in an unfamiliar suit
waiting for the droning minister to finish.

Remember that interminable wait
as a life is reduced to platitudes?
other mourners appearing as caricatures,
then looking at the expression on your
brother's face -
how can convention be observed?
how can laughter be properly suppressed?

When you lift the coffin and carry it
in procession to the hearse
do you fear you may drop it?
that you will curl into a ball
laughing through tears as the corpse spills
on to the cold slate floor?
that people will faint and scream?
that perhaps you will spoil the funeral?

So you don't laugh
tears spilling from your eyes instead,
and as you stand outside the chapel
accepting the commiseration of friends

do you think laughter might have been
more meaningful than tears?