A Cathartic Question?
Her eyes hold a distant look as she lifts her head from her book. A question Shirley asked her earlier still haunts her:
How do I feel about Robert?
After she asks me, I feel nothing for a moment.
Before remembering his blue face on a Christmas morning; his screaming as his eye bleeds; the overwhelming attention he demanded of my mother every day. Attention I did without because he needed it more than I did — as I was told again and again.
I choke back a lifetime of un-cried tears.
maple leaves bowing
under sudden rain
more by FRANK J. TASSONE
photograph by Kaboompics.com