When you chuck a bronze medal at your sister’s head, apologize—
you’ll want to when you’re older. The word apologize
clings to your tongue like the bitter herbs at Passover—
the first year you relate to the Wicked Son. Apologize
for the tantrums, occupying Mom’s time while your sister
analyzes her body in the mirror, sobbing. Apologize
for shattering Dad’s car window in front of her friends,
scaring them into avoiding her at school. Apologize
when she says Matt, I was terrified of you—remember trauma
loosens its grip around her throat every time you apologize.
is a twenty-two-year-old neurodivergent writer from Tracy California. He will attend the MFA program in Creative Writing, Poetry at California State University, Long Beach in Fall 2020. His poems and stories have appeared or are forthcoming in Drunk Monkeys, Cathexis Northwest Press, Running Wild Press, Origami Poems Project, and elsewhere.