Dan had chosen for Elizabeth to be cremated.
We went to a sad funeral home, and sat in plastic
seats as a sombre valediction was delivered.
There were gilt-edged photographs of Elizabeth
everywhere. I found it exceedingly creepy. Father
had arranged for a sumptuous wreath of lilies.
I couldn’t keep my eyes away from the incinerators
built into the walls, and shrouded with cream lace
curtains. When the business of prayers was done,
Elizabeth’s casket was wheeled towards an oven.
I watched, mortified, as she was delivered into
a mouth of flames.

Author: Robert James Berry

Poet & Novelist