Sunshower We gathered in a field of the green & dying,
under a virulent sun. Weeds stole names
from the dead, but ask Aunt Carrie
or Cousin Lynn & they could tell them all anyway.
A Baptist fellowship to add to their numbers
our matriarch of a fucked-up family,
with the preacher-man witness to our clumsy antics
of make-believe & the fifth-generation miracle
peeping from her parasol at her pitiful inheritance of us.
A splash against the casket our only warning,
before the heavens opened-up &
poured their disdain through the sun
& Grandma’s voice-“
Well, I guess the Devil’s beatin’ his wife.”
Callie Fedd Class of 2022 32
