My brother died almost a week ago, and I wrote this almost immediately after I learned.
Siblings
Am I sad? If not, why not?
I was an only child for a year and a half
Then this squalling creature took
My mother away from me.
The skies filled with dark clouds,
Anger turned visual.
He was a thing called a brother.
He lay on a blanket in the sun while
I held a knife-like object over his head.
Two years later came a new baby,
This one a thing called a sister.
Wasn’t I already a sister?
Why did they need another girl?
Thirteen years ago my sister was gone
Done in by her third round of breast cancer.
LIFO, Last In, First Out.
Now the brother is gone, and
I’m an only child again.
Only now I’m the matriarch.
From here on out, it’s all fiction.
my sentiments exactly, except both my brothers arrived at the same time—identical twins—when I was three years old, an adored only child. I’ve never forgiven them for being born. Until they grew bigger and taller than me I could beat them up but soon they ganged up on me. I so wanted to be a boy.
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