My sister Joan died today. Heart attack
shut down the brain, so her children turned off
the respirator. Truth is, she pushed back
from life years before, kidnapped by Smirnoff
or such poison, victim of that disease
that stalks me daily, wants me to explode
and take folks with me, sends me to my knees
praying for help. When we were young, she told
me she’d be a star. A true beauty, she
burned inside for fame and romance, could bend
crowds with wit, charm, and, oh, how she danced: free
and graceful, flowing across stage like wind
through prairie grass. Married twice. Bore a girl
and two boys who loved her. For all the world.
Roger Armbrust
March 12, 2009
