Just like his sister, blue eyes and rose bud lips.
Pale skin limbs, after school flushed,
pile in the back of Nan’s pea-green mini.
We play in their Nan’s garden for hours,
always gravitating towards the swing:
regular aluminum A-frame, with
a redundant harness for a seat.
They tell me that their Dad died hang gliding.
I’d feel anger for that harness,
but brother and sister seem nonchalant.
Years pass, he’s growing tall,
school has him on report,
a teacher writes “no trouble, slept well”.
Out of school, he supplies a little weed.
He offers us his mushrooms:
I spend hours peeling a tangerine.
Years pass, I hear he’s on heroin.
Years pass, he’s drunk in charge:
vodka put him four times over.
Then the news “a boating accident – he’s dead”.
My first thought, the word “euphemism”.
I ask to know more….
“A boating accident on the day
of the anniversary of his Father’s death”.