The last time I spoke
to him,
my brother Tom was chanting Nam-Yo-Ho-Renge-Kyo eight hours a day
for the sake of all of us.
His slow, deep voice thanked me
for having left my shrine behind.
I felt guilt,
listening to the sweet, vacant tones
that years of alcohol and drugs had left.
I remember hearing him
talking to friends
in Dad's back room
long after curfew:
"I'll go ahead and let
the Sheriff chase me down," he said.
"You guys go straight home.
I'll be allright."
Anitra's
Family Poems
Other Writing by Anitra