The air was heavy with lilies and grief

The air was heavy with lilies and grief,

a silence so thick it offered no relief.

Then the organist slipped on a plastic key

and a bossa nova beat broke over me.

A synthetic shaker and a tropical flute

pierced the room in its black-tie suit.

My uncle was gone, but the keyboard played on,

a digital ghost until the power was drawn.

I saw my cousin’s jaw start to shake,

her teeth on her lip for her mother’s sake.

A bead of red bloomed where she bit down hard,

while a samba rattled the prayer card.