As we lifted her

Onto the rollers

In the back of the hearse,

My brother, half-heartedly says

“Even now she has us moving shit,”

And we laugh,

And our smiles crack

Through the salt on our lips.

But we don’t say goodbye

Because she didn’t believe in it.

We just tell stories over each other

And laugh in our memories,

And cry for the new ones

She won’t be a part of.