Photograph
After Stanley Kunitz
There is no
photo of me with Father
as mother
tore him
from our days
while still young,
driving my
brother and me across
county, leaving
behind our home.
She hide him
in the closet
like she did
her children,
never reminding
brother
and me of the
dad we’d forgotten.
I
solved the riddle
in high school, sitting
across the
table with my burning question—
Why is my
stepbrother younger
than my brother?
Mother told me that step-father
(a regular visitor
to my bedroom
while she was
away)
wasn’t my
father.
To this day,
I see her rouged
lips mouthing, I
thought you knew,
and feel a
flush burning.
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