STROKE

Her front door was mildewed aluminum

In the center, an S in a circle

It banged away in the night wind

We forgot to latch it shut

My brother brought me forward in the oven-warm house

A misaligned hen to his rooster, both of us served up to her

She wore no kerchief

No bracelets clinked together

She looked nothing at all like the

Gypsy he'd promised

A frayed housecoat fell around her too large

Snaps fastened up to her parchment throat

Come here she said not getting up from her kitchen chair

Fingers graze my good palm

Jagged dance, an attempt at a graceful swirl

Unkept nails scratch soft skin

You said goodbye to a man

He broke your heart

And just as I was about to sigh

Of course you would say that

She breathed the name of his mark

An eagle, wings spread

Full

Just below his beltline

No one knew but me

And his thousand other lovers

She named a flower I once kept

Nailed to my bedroom wall

In another city

In another time

My brother smiled

But did you see the stroke I asked

My brother frowned

Her fingers dug into my palm

Of course of course she whispered

I snatched my hand away but she fast-caught the edge of my sleeve

The working side of my mouth curled in disgust

No let's go

You were late she said

You were told to come

The door banged

The stitching on my sleeve opened the tiniest of tears

I told you, my brother said

I told you

© B.A. Calhoun - 2021