Sunday, July 19, 2015

The Bamboo Hut, Vol. 1, Issue 2, January 2014

she keeps watch
over skinny-dipping daughters
holding towels
and laughing at three moons
shining on the cloudless lake

she calls us in
we press our noses
against wet glass
as tumbleweeds turn cartwheels
in the yellow bruise of sky

she lies trembling
as he dissects the diagnosis
three daughter moths
flutter in fear's white blaze

she hides
the family photographs
in memory's drawer
at our next visit
we find ourselves missing

mother's ashes
blanket the bones of her first-born
beneath the lilac
the sister
that I never knew

after the crash
four white coffins
a branch
of the family tree

my bleeding fingers
the broken strings
of my late sister's guitar

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