Popcorn
Blissfully asleep
The cold air never seeped in to get me
I was protected by a sleeping bag worn old, purple and pink
But it was ruined
Suddenly that old sleeping bag stopped protecting me
The cold had gotten to me
Infecting my heart, making it cold and gray
Then I was sitting in a church
I wiped my runny nose on the velvet of my dress
The priest waved an odd smelling smoke around a casket
My mother had a bag of uncooked popcorn
I asked her with tears running down my fat, rosy cheeks
“Why are you putting the popcorn in the casket?”
She told me it was to feed him in the afterlife
After all,
My grandfather’s favorite snack was popcorn