11 Jan Granddaddy’s Funeral by Megan Kemple
as the Appalachian Mountains?
As bright as a field of fireflies
and as dark as the holler at midnight?
How do I bury the only man who ever loved me
unconditionally and unapologetically
from the day I was born
to the day he died?How do I rebuild on land that has been washed away?
Take a step forward when I’m drowning?
Know that I’ll never sit at a table with you again
and still eat?
I didn’t make it to you in time.
I didn’t get to hold your hand
or say goodbye.
Not until you were in your casket.
But I know you were there,
because you put on
“You’re Gonna Go Far”
as we pulled into the funeral home.I made everyone get out of the car
so I could scream cry with you,
like I did at Uncle Dave’s grave last year.
We both know you never got over his death.
It broke my heart the way your world got so small without him.
I’m afraid of how small my world is without you.
You know how scared I am to be still,
but I’m standing at your grave even in New York.
You weren’t even in the ground yet
when the family split into factions.
Any hopes for reconciliation
died with you.
I waited there until everyone else left,
let them say their goodbyes and welcome you to Heaven,
even though they hadn’t had a kind word for you
in fifteen years.
When we were alone,
I told you I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.
I said, Thank you for everything, I love you,
and kissed your forehead.
And then I placed the coins over your eyes,
like I had for your son.
Like long ago an old man had for your Daddy.
Like you had asked me to.
But my sister couldn’t let me grieve you
in my own way.
Couldn’t let the magic of tradition
pollute the coffin of Christianity.
Everyone here has been scared of my power since I was 13.
They think I’m possessed by demons.
I guess she thought those coins were a one-way ticket to Hell
even Jesus couldn’t save you from.
That is my biggest regret.
I let her make me swallow that
instead of flipping a table
like you would have told me to.
I let them make me feel small for the last time.
I have to do everything I said I would
because you told me I could do it.
I have to climb out of this.
Please show me how.
About the Poet
Megan Kemple is a multidisciplinary writer, performer, and teaching artist. In 2025, her latest chapbook, A Heretic Without a Home, was published by Arcana Press, and two of her short plays, Tough Love and Where There’s A Will, were produced as part of the Chain Theatre’s One Act Festivals Off-Broadway.
As a slam poet, she placed 3rd at the Rookie Slam at the National Poetry Slam 2017, & 3rd in the NUPIC Slam at NPS 2018, where her team placed in the top ten.
She has published work in Milk Press, The Drama Therapy Review, Preposition: the Undercurrent Anthology, and other publications. Her first chapbook, American Blasphemies, was published by Ghost City Press in 2017. She has an MA from NYU Steinhardt in Drama Therapy, and a BFA in Theatre Performance from Niagara University.
Related Event
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- Megan Kemple returns to the Buffalo area in January for two events in the Wednesday Night Live Series curated and hosted by Ben Brindese and Justin Karcher.
- On Wednesday, January 14th, from 6 p.m. to 7 p.m., she will be leading a free, multidisciplinary workshop at the Caffe at Amy’s, 3234 Main St. in Buffalo.
- On Wednesday, January 21st, at 9 p.m., Megan will reading and performing from her poetry, spoken word, and dramatic monologue writing at Caffe Aroma, 957 Elmwood Ave. in Buffalo. Both events are made possible by a Creative Impact Grant through Arts Services Inc. (ASI) and the New York State Council on the Arts.
The Poem of the Week feature is curated by literary legacy awardee R.D. Pohl.