“Little Brother Shot Playing with Pistol”

His sister runs screaming from the church,

jacket slips from one shoulder to the floor.

No carpet should be red today.

No one singing, “Precious Lord.”

For the next number, “I Won’t Complain”

a crowd of wailing women rise up,

aunties and grandmas banging handbags

against the backs of pews.

“At least he’s not suffering”—

    wouldn’t most dead people

rather be suffering?