Page 27 - Contrast1991Fall

I CAN still..,

hear his voice splash
against the dunes and the sand,
and the song that they played at his funeral

slightly whistles
through my ears with the wind.
It was here that we spent most of our time,
together, wrestling and resting in the sand.

My nose fills with the scent
of suntan lotion and stale
beer, as I lay down and tip my head back, leaving
an impression in the sand. I can still

remember; it wasn't long ago,
just before last year's autumn chill,

before the car hit
the tree, now scarred

with the memory
of him, that my brother,

laid here beside me,
watching the stars,
like confetti in the sky,
leaving an impression,

in the sand.

-Jason Spiotta

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