I won’t be able to make it to the cemetery today; I’m lowkey annoyed,and the concrete faces in black wool remind me of my own skin,and how I couldn’t bag it and give it awayHaven’t my aunts always told me I look maudlin in dark shades?Yellow is a better look. If we’re being honest, I want the sunto split the pines behind the mausoleum, teeter thedoleful gravestones like dominoes, and plow into this buried heartHydrogen has always been my color. I’m sure Mom’s straight, whitefemur would understandMy Brother Was a BombI surveil his ignition hands,puckered by bloodline, touchthe memories steep with pain:when he dunked my headbetween swamp jaws,tucked me intoa Boston Crab in the hotel pool,drowned himselfin gasoline and strucka match. And I try to picturethat grinning summerwe jumpedlike mullet in and outof hose-filled barrels,the hot pavement hissingas water slappedin escape. I swam thenwith a time bomb, andcalled him bubbybecause I couldn’t pronouncebrother.Lannie Stabile (she/her), a queer Detroiter, often says while some write like a turtleneck sweater, she writes like a Hawaiian shirt. A finalist for the 2019/2020 Glass Chapbook Series and semifinalist for the Button Poetry 2018 Chapbook Contest, she is usually working on new chapbook ideas, or, when desperate, on her neglected YA novel. Works are published/forthcoming in Pidgeonholes, Glass Poetry, 8 Poems, Okay Donkey, Honey & Lime, and more. Lannie currently holds the position of Managing Editor at Barren Magazine and is a member of the MMPR Collective. She was thrice nominated for Best of the Net 2019.

Twitter handle: @LannieStabile

Lannie Stabile: My Brother was a Bomb & Other Poems

Selcouth Station