The Giver

My younger brother disowned the family years ago. I know he still lives, but he’s been dead to me for so long now that I can’t quite believe he’s still around. This poem resonates deeply with a not-quite-healed, still-open wound in the center of my heart. Just gorgeous.

The Winged Woman

A phone call with news that took away all her breath

Scant details, but announced her big brothers’ death

She had got to know him once, but that was long ago

He killed a man and was in a prison six states below

They had random visits thanks to a sister by half

She enjoyed their time, their talks, his letters, shared laughs

A trip to pick up her mail brought tears and a horrible strain

For the small heavy box was marked on all sides “Human Remains”

She drove out in late evening, camped alone in the dark

Got to a crossroads and made the left choice to park

With tie-died blanket, photos, letters, cigarettes and a beer

She created a shrine, centered on the box that held the one she held dear

She wailed, truly wailed, and wrote him one last letter

While the ravens, bees and a…

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