Formalities

I saw a funeral
complete with guns
and a clean flag
folded slowly.

There were men
with straight backs
who talked with bowed heads
and placed into a woman's hands

the flag
and bright medallions
so that she would have
something to hold.

And then a man played
a bugle
that sparkled in the sun.
The notes clear and sharp
floated off
in single file.

The woman seemed to try
to hold them, too,
and maybe even had a grip
on the last one.
It lingered;

it waited
(as she had)
stretched to a thin
tension
until the guns fired
and she let go.