by Sarah Elizabeth Colona
Here, my family gathers for its first funeral of this generation. Old biddies toddle toward the punch bowl for another ladle of forgetting. Mother’s adolescent great-nieces and nephews surrender to the severity of black lace and quiet games. Other guests crowd halls and doorways — too tense to settle upon worn sofa cushions or stiff, reassuring dining room chairs. The Grand Dame, after all, is not here to serve teacakes with candied violets. She will not descend the staircase to bestow half-meant kisses — though she hangs in the air like a whiff of lily.
Sarah Elizabeth Colona lives and teaches in her home state of New Jersey. She earned her MFA from George Mason University, where she served as poetry editor for So to Speak. Her poems have appeared in Measure, Six Little Things, The Chimaera, and several other journals, including Cabinet des Fées: Scheherezade’s Bequest. New work is forthcoming in Jabberwocky and The Ampersand Review.