folding laundry

I’m still finding it difficult to pull my thoughts together lately or focus on choosing a portion of something new and unpublished.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:

folding laundry

 

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