Heads bowed in prayer,

the room sits motionless

save the swelling of tears

and a single suspended balloon.

Discordant in its lightness,

tied to the handle of a casket

whose small dimensions

defy its sorrowful heft,

it rotates under dim lighting.

A macabre marquee of tinny silver

and pastel blue,

its silent cacophony

heralding “Baby Boy!”

in vibrant letters

as it pulls taut its silken tether.

R.I.P. Baby Asher