poem 1
on a rainy November evening, I went to get the mail.
my brother was on my front steps, waiting for me, with his favorite sweater on (we all know the one), no coat. classic.
he walked with me to the end of the driveway, to the mailbox.
“were you waiting for me?” I asked. he smiled, shrugged, “yeah”
misty rain came down as we walked back to the house together, in comfortable silence. he stopped at the door, right under the light. “I like the rain” he said, staying outside with those crinkly eyes, that calm face.
I wanted him to come in, but I understood, I understand.
and it had only been five weeks since I saw his wife, young and beautiful, pregnant belly swollen listening to the hospital staff, the ones in charge of organ donation, as they explained things no wife should ever hear. her nodding, cross legged on a hospital waiting room chair.