Friday, April 2, 2010

Shhhhhhhhhhhhh!

It’s a quiet day today. I go through the house silently, careful not to make any noise, as if a baby were sleeping. The only sounds are from the wild birds outside, and the steady ticking of the clock in the living room. This quiet day seems to be full of unexpected memories, fragile as glass. I remember my brother …

HE LOVED TRAINS

I can now only remember
bits and pieces of his face
as if a jigsaw puzzle
had been turned upside-down
and there! on the floor
is his crooked-tooth smile,
a pair of blue eyes with pale lashes,
a thatch of hair
the color of blond strawberries ....

It’s difficult, though,
to put the puzzle back together,
as if Time and my memory
conspire to fade
the only mental portrait of my brother
that I have.

Oh, I could pull out
any one of a hundred photos,
but it seems that Kodak is cheating
not to have mementoed the power of his stance,
the strength of arms which held love,
his splay-footed walk ....

But worse,
the sound of his voice
and his laugh -- these are growing still.
They are almost
as quiet as ashes scattered
along railroad tracks
in Virginia.

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