At the Funeral Lunch
by
Joan Leotta
The preacher paid
verbal homage.
“Praise the Lord”
(and numerous
accolades for the
newly-departed).
Then, slowly,
slightly out of
tune,
mourners moaned
out
hopeful hymns
about
hunger for
paradise
while stomachs
rumbled.
Tributes continued
until, blessedly,
the preacher
extended the
awaited invitation:
“You are
invited to lunch
fixed by our
church ladies.”
All descended to
the basement
for the parting
party—
collards, ham,
fried chicken,
deviled eggs,
pimento cheese
triangles
sandwiches.
The desert table
anchored
the end of the
culinary send-off.
Its array of
sugary comfort was
guaranteed to stop
tears while sending
sugar levels
soaring with
ten-layer coconut
cake, brownies, chess
pecan, and sweet
potato pies,
and banana
pudding.
Saints and
sinners, relatives, friends,
and hungry folks
who wandered in,
sidled up to table
to assuage
their sadness with
this midday feast.
As they waited in
line, conversation
shifted from sweet
to tarter memories
of the dearly
departed.
As I watched them
consuming
all my favorite
foods, I wondered,
would their
appetites be
as great if they
could see me
drifting about the
desserts,
a guest at my own
funeral lunch?
Joan Leotta plays with words on
page and stage. She performs tales of food, family, strong women.
Internationally published as an essayist, poet, short story writer, and
novelist, she’s a multiple Pushcart nominee, Best of the Net, and 2022
runner-up in Robert Frost Competition. Her new chapbook is Feathers
on Stone,
https://mainstreetragbookstore.com/product/feathers-on-stone-joan-leotta/
