At The Funeral
Every wave, every vibration, every joule of heat
that blazed life into him is still here,
sticking your shirt to your skin,
fanned away by the folded program in your hand.
Photons ricocheted off his face, tangled in his hair, intercepted
by his angular nose.
Trillions of particles bounced off like children,
hopscotch games forever changed
by him. Some collected in the galaxy
of your eyes, constellating
electromagnetically charged neurons.
They seeped sweat under your arms,
across your forehead,
were wiped away by the back of your hand
before resting on the black fabric
on your thigh.