Weight

I am not Aunt. Forgiveness

does not work for me.

As I bite into a spring roll,

wrath somersaults

in my stomach,

it will not be stilled.

Although Aunt’s bruises have faded,

my memory has not.

My brother doesn’t understand,

rabbiting on about prison visits.

They’ll never be on my agenda.

I cannot forget

the dead weight of Aunt

as we all carried her

to the stretcher.

That does not fade.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s