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.

snowy roads
silence in the wake
of babbled regrets