all i could see was trinkets and knickknacks.
to the side was my grandpa's casket and all
i could see were those damn collectibles.
the funeral home was cluttered with an assortment of antique memorabilia, things like an old unfunctional
sewing machine and 1950s tin coca-cola signs.
and porcelain dolls that never stopped staring
at me from across the room.
it's all i saw, all i loathed.
i was numb to everything else, except
a burning rage towards those absolutely
worthless trinkets.
and the chairs we sat in.
metal cushioned and upholstered,
but merely subtracting the coldness
that can be quite pleasant
to a sweaty palm.
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