To Toe

The mess of mold in my former room is

A stench left behind with former lovers.

How did we ever fit in this twin-sized bed?

Home for the holidays, Lexapro taken with

Eggnog and a thousand empathetic friends.

I laughed a little when I asked my roommates

If I should pack some good funeral clothes,

And if I should bring both a dress and a suit.

They promised either would be amazing.

My friends back home say I wear

Adulthood so well. I go a little deeper

Into my hometown. Just a little further

Down the path. What could I have missed?

Why do my feet feel the most comfortable and warm

On sheets that are not mine anymore?

Not to lessen that I had always hoped

That my brother would beat my record

For living. I didn’t think I would win

By 5, 6, 7 years, much less minutes,

Yet we would be lucky to call it a draw.

There was a point when I stopped praying

For him to survive, and for him to find himself

Somewhere a little kinder to him. How he clung,

Or maybe my parents did instead.

It is sad to condemn your living family to their

Graves, but around me is a cemetery:

A marriage, a mind, a body, all spirits. The blood

In me has been drained from this artery,

My former town a destroyed appendage, nothing

But a failed organ. I wish they were all baby teeth

Or toes.

Flash Issue 10