Alexis Rotella

A Weekend Bus Trip with the Girls

She had to go to Montreal even though I knew before I knew he’d get soused and beat my brother and me the way his father beat him. Mom is gone only a little while before he gets the urge to toss my brother across the room as if he were a pillow.

In mid-flight I see the look on my brother’s face—he tries to keep his dignity before he hits the wall, one hand tightly holding the other. We’re no damn good, we’ll never be any good, my father’s mantra.

Dad snores on the couch, a cigarette burning itself out in the ashtray, us puffy eyed, cowering in the corner of the sun room. The look on Mom’s face as she holds out the charm bracelet to me. No matter what, she had to go, even though I knew before I knew the things she’ll never know.

The hollow sound
of silvery maple leaves
only I remember

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About the Author

Alexis Rotella has been writing Japanese poetry forms in English since the late 1970s. Her most recent books, Scratches on the Moon (haibun) and the anthology Unsealing Our Secrets (MeToo Stories), earned Touchstone book awards. Her latest anthology, Grandmother’s Pearls, is available on Amazon/Kindle, as are a number of her books.

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