Sister by Fong Lee
I brush your head with the palms
Of my cursed hands,
Gave you a pack of Winter Fresh gum
Telling you to be good
As I smoke my way out of your life.
That was when I yelled at you for
Being in my way around the house,
Screamed at you to bring me water and
Rice—to boil me noodles with eggs.
You have no clue how peaceful
It was to see the envelope in my
Concrete room with your name on it.
I found something on my face
That I have lost since I part
Ways from the family.
My teeth gleam—illuminating this
Castel. I stood there holding the
Envelope not wanting to
Expose what’s inside.
I was afraid of what you might
Say—all the childhood memories
Tsunami their way in.
Couple months later, I was called
For a visit, worried and thrilled.
The metal door slid open
You walk in; you knew who I was
But I did not know you.
You jump into my arm for a hug
I froze, leaving you with
A neglected hug.
I thought you would be mad
That you would be shy.
No. You have so much to say
While you catches me up with
All those lost years
I sat there terrified. I only remember
The little girl with broken tooth
That I used to yell at, not this
Striking, red-lipped creature in
Front of me. How could I left you
To this cold world? Why did I fail as a brother?
970 Pickett St N
Bayport, Minnesota 55003