Oct 18, 2019
Witch Funeral
by Katherine Hightower
I always knew we had
magic in the family.
I just thought she’d
outlive us all.
Her memorial service
was the last day of summer,
everyone was handed
a loaf of bread
and a jar of kumquat jelly
as they left.
A turquoise collection
larger than New Mexico
divided between her
grandchildren,
soon to be stored in shoeboxes
at the bottom of closets.
They smiled when we entered
in our mourning attire,
dusty worn out slip-on shoes
and black pants two sizes too small
in the middle of August.
The ride home in the car with my dad
was silent.
I think I killed Aunt Zelda he said
and turned on the radio.