No Candles
There were no candles
Around your coffin
And the church was cold
No altar boys to carry
Cross and holy water
It was I suppose
A school day
The priest tried
To say good things
About you, although
They were a bit generic
I went to the sanctuary
To ring the bell
As the altar boy
Would have done
Afterwards
Lingering outside
Loading the hearse
I imagined you there
Shaking your head
An unlit cigarette
In one hand
Car keys in the other.
David Subacchi lives in Wrexham, North Wales. He was born in Aberystwyth of Italian roots and Cestrian Press has published two collections of his poems. First Cut (2012) and Hiding in Shadows (2014). He is an active member of Chester Poets and Liverpool’s Dead Good Poets. Blog http://www.writeoutloud.net/profiles/davidsubacchi Twitter@DavidSubacchi