Joe Peacock

 

At Seven                                                                    

 

“How come you’re taking

Daddy’s clothes?” I ask.

My father’s sister, Mary Vee,

pets the empty sleeve of his blue suit

like it’s her favorite cat;

picks away a speck of lint.

Mother stares at something far away.

 

My brother,

pulling me into the hallway

a wall away from their broken eyes,

whispers in a voice

strong and wise for his twelve years,

my brother whispers,

shhh-h-h,

he whispers:

Just

keep

your

goddamn

mouth

shut.

 

And I do that.

 

Winner of Third Place Prize in Literary LEO Contest, 2005

Published in Bigger Than They Appear: Anthology of Very Short Poems, 2011