LOSER

And as easy as saying,

“Pass the salt,”

She says to my son-in-law

About my brother, long

Estranged, “I guess you

Could say he’s a real loser.”

Years fall away

And I picture that little boy

He is curled up on the steps

Head on knees, sobbing

Somebody else beat him up

At recess, called him stupid

Stole his good shoes—again

He is not yet ten years old

But he wants to die, he says

Nobody loves him, he sobs

I do, I tell him, I do

When did I stop telling him,

I wonder—

When did he decide for good

And all, he was a loser

When did I let him go ...

I shudder as I speculate

About how likely it is

those events

are all connected ...