I’m still finding it difficult to pull my thoughts together lately or focus on choosing a portion of something new and unpublished. So, I’ve taken the easy way and selected a poem from my chapbook, Naked, published in 2018 by Main Street Rag. My brother’s birthday is today, he would be 70:
for my brother, Grant
sticky red pooled under your body
when you fell down the stairs
shot in your back
once
not so very long ago
but long enough to realize you
won’t remember when I kicked you
with my habanero words
every death I see
nudges me further from the memory of your face
your voice
until there’s nothing left
except letters
pictures
evidence I knew you
I fold you up
your arms crossed on your chest
feet up to your shoulders
a neat rectangle
it’s how I fold a T-shirt
I place you in a storage chest
try to smooth out the wrinkles of no goodbye
with words said
left unsaid
I wait to bring you out when the season changes
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Photo credit: haryo-setyadi-acn5ERAeSb4-unsplash
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