Funeral Cake
written by: Carla Sarett
@cjsarett
No trace of a snowman or tin angels.
Here, young Santas march in drunken packs,
I cross to the shaded side of Fourth Street.
Let them sing. Once I cursed
the god I didn’t believe in
after my brother’s funeral
on my father’s birthday—
a cousin brought him a white cake
with burning white candles
and my stunned father blew them out…
as if it were a party.
Old scars, familiar as chill.
Hardly my final funeral. Every year,
I watch A Christmas Carol—
the original, in black and white.
I like to imagine parties with polkas,
eggnog, and something called cheer.
Carla Sarett is a poet and novelist based in San Francisco. She is the author of She Has Visions (Main Street Rag) and two poetry chapbooks, My Family Was Like a Russian Novel (Plan B Press) and Woman on the Run (Alien Buddha.) Carla earned her PhD from University of Pennsylvania.
Latest posts by Carla Sarett (see all)
- Funeral Cake - December 11, 2023
- My Darling Clementine - November 29, 2022
