My Brother

My Brother

My brother’s buying some late night drive-thru tacosfinds an empty parking lottakes two bites and starts to choke on his tearsthrows the meat and shells onto cracked concrete. He cries, confined in his self-made solitudebecause he’s lost and fat and feels too old at...
To Dig a Grave

To Dig a Grave

We dig our father’s grave with a post hole digger.My younger brother jabs the double blade into the dark soil.Across the creek, coyotes yowl to the dusk.We’re not used to hearing them.They weren’t around when we grew up near here. My brother rests against the...
Most Sunday mornings

Most Sunday mornings

Joe takes the dog to the service station;feeds him donuts. Sometimes chocolate frosted.Can’t poison this dog—he’s a Lab.They hang out for awhile,listening to the regulars hold forth from theirregular spots on oil-stained folding chairsset at the edge of the bay. It’s...
A Sweet Thing

A Sweet Thing

Kyle and I arrived at his parents’ house in the early evening. He had barely removed the key from the ignition when his mother, Caroline, appeared at my window. Her face was obscured in the evening shadow, save for the whites of her eyes and her teeth as she smiled at...
Anatomy of a Flood

Anatomy of a Flood

People often recount the floods in living memory. As a child, I heard about the Kickapoo River flood of 1978, after which Soldiers Grove—the town just north of where I grew up—moved to higher ground; homes, businesses, and about 600 people were relocated off of the...