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To
Junior
by
Wilda Morris
You
swam in the cup of water our cousin Donn
said
a person could drown in. You were the liquid
spotting
grandmother’s pillow, Uncle Norman’s towel
that
would not dry, the soundless wet circle
always
on the dining room table.
You
schooled me in fear of swimming holes, lakes
rivers,
waves. When Mother took me to the city pool,
you
dived from Donn’s cup, tried to pull me under.
Relinquish
your power over me, Junior. I can no longer
live
in the shadow of your swollen young body.
~
previously published in Encore: Prize Poems 2011
