Memory 1 week 11

I remember the day my father told my mother it was over. 

We were called to the table. We were low on napkins. 

The pool needed to be filled. Somewhere, I left the tv on 

And the oxy clean guy hollered about if you called now,

You could get so many other things for free. I didn't want

Oxy clean. And now, two, three years later, when she sits

Across from me and I explain my sister, me, she nods

And the glass of milk dissolves the Oreo.

The washing machine buzzes. I clench my fists and apologize 

To my father. It's as though my stomach decides to pace,

The heat in the house turned to 90 degrees, and I'm back 

To being the sister I was in high school. This time though, 

I didn't clench her against the wall, or scream her awake. 

No, I attempted to build some bridges. And I'm not an architect.