Light - A Journal of Photography & Poetry 01 | Human | Page 7

MASSEY ARMISTEAD
In the Kitchen, After Sunday Morning Pancakes
He was just a baby
with curly crimson hair
that fell onto our kitchen counter
while a hairdresser
shaved his head.
On that same counter
dad pinned him down,
held his arms and legs
while mom tried to feed him
the medicine. Swallow. Please.
Forced the syringe-like tube to his mouth.
Against doctor’s orders
dad put it to his own tongue.
Just like chocolate.
Now my brother
has a long crimson beard.
Tells me and my sister
he will only cut it
if his girlfriend asks.
Sacrifices for the one you love, he says.