~ IN MEMORIAM ~
                  The Funeral

   The last time I saw Clyde, he was in a temporary
container. Or maybe I should say that he was 
contained within this container. Or perhaps that he
was the contents of the container.
   The Temporary Container. A brown cardboard box,
a bit bigger than a shoebox. TEMPORARY CONTAINER 
in large black letters printed clearly on the sides.
A sensitive touch of the funeral directors.
   From the Temporary Container Clyde passed 
into the hands of his loving mother. A small slender
woman of great emotional strength. I heard her say
softly, Clyde you've shrunk.
   From his mother's hands Clyde passed into the
river. Gray ashes merging with green water,
surrounded by floating daffodils tossed in by
friends and family, the tide slowly moving, carrying
through a back eddy, and out again toward the bay
and on.
   I thought of keeping the Temporary Container, 
knowing Clyde would have appreciated the final
Zen joke, the Temporary Container, the transitory
nature of life.
   But instead we burned the Temporary Container
in an old fire pit of Clyde's summer camp, up above
his floating flowers and flowing ashes. His camp on
the river. His cup remains empty.
   Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Water to mist.
   Clyde too will be missed.
                                    Early spring '96
                                    -Michael Clough