The first song I laughed at in a funeral
was the theme tune to Winnie the Pooh
as a Charlton Athletic fan was carried
in a coffin down a crematorium aisle.
At least 95% of us had no idea
Winnie was a family nickname for him –
on account of his head shape and giggle –
but we all whistled the tube over ham sandwiches
that afternoon. I smiled while Mr Big Stuff
sang a teenage Mercedes apprentice
through a different crematorium
past the borrowed suit on my body trying
to retain its Geography revision. I ate a flapjack
watching the live stream of an uncle’s
COVID-19 funeral. I caught pixelated tears
on my finger tips and strained to hear any music.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Written while listening to ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’ by Queen.