Death Before Dishonor
By Olivia Vande Woude
L
Death before dishonor
Curls around his forearm
A garland of faded roses
Encircle the Garamond letters.
I love Garamond,
he says.
If I get any tattoo, it's in Garamond.
Yes ma'am and no ma'am
He carts boxes into the structure.
I do this as a side job
Times are tough
I need money
So I can move out of Jersey city,
away from cop killers.
To us,
an unfamiliar melody.
I've got 12 siblings,
he adds.
A twin who went to jail
When I went to serve my country.
We don't speak much now.
My mom used to dress us identically
I told her we're maternal twins
Not mirror reflections
Disparity in the midst of presumed parity
I drink Jack Daniels at night
It drowns out the
gunshots,
P.T.S.D.
This box says, Photo graphy.
GirlSense and NonSense