In Santa Barbara For a Funeral in January – Crystal Ignatowski

The eucalyptus trees bending.
Bowing in a prayer.

Your mother on your nightstand
in a granite jar.

Black iced coffee
the only emotion you could swallow.

Your sister curled next to you
in bed.

Mass at The Mission.
Paper whites.

When the doors opened,
our eyes burned.

All your friends in black
around a white linen table.

After, a keg between your knees
on the way to Ted’s. We threw

chicken to cats on the patio.
Worked hard to forget

the occasion. Later, dishes
in the sink, people smoked.

Your sister’s eyes were little slits,
but they held the world.

Crystal Ignatowski

Crystal Ignatowski’s poetry has been featured in Barren Magazine, Four Way Review, and more. Former Assistant Editor at Flypaper Lit, she received the 2019 Poets on the Coast Fellowship. She lives and writes in Oregon. Twitter: @crysignatowski

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Alex Eisenbergreply
July 5, 2021 at 4:38 AM

I love the style and concept of this poem. So powerful!

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