Frank J. Tassone
A Violent End
Tension seizes my brother’s face. Tremors follow the stiffening of every muscle. His eyes widen in anger and terror. He yells and storms upstairs. I follow.
We grapple in the guest bedroom, where he’d left his coat. He can’t move me; my root is too deep. I embrace him. He struggles. I hold fast.
Christmas – lost with the keys he misplaced. Even after he finds them.
silence in the wake
of babbled regrets