Page Weight

I haven't seen his face in twelve long years,

but here I am in a borrowed suit and tie.

The organ music grinds against my ears

while we watch the heavy incense drift on high.

The blue book weighs a pound in either hand,

a block of songs I do not know the way to sing.

I press my thumb against the leather band

and feel the dent of every holy thing.

My wrists are aching from the steady strain

of holding up a grief that isn't mine.

I watch the sunlight hit the windowpane

and wait for us to finally reach the line.