Colors I Cannot See

When I was 5

When I was five my brother was born,

a soft and small creature,

wiggling around with nothing to protect it.

I remember looking up,

as we got out of the car,

and them pointing to a window where a woman stood.

It was a time before my eyesight had started to worsen,

so I could see her standing there, holding something in her arms.

She waved at us.

Later, I remember my mother yelling and my step-father screaming.

There were two different words used there-

she yelled and it was cold and harsh,

a wind that blew against the shutters,

something that left me scared.

he screamed and it bellowed,

the walls shook and the world collapsed,

something that left me whimpering.

I remember that night was one of happiness,

happy because the fight ended so fast,

because we had dinner together,

because he left the house to do something,

and my siblings and I were all alone.

My brother pulled out his Atari,

and the two of us played games on that tiny TV

until it was time for bed.

I remember later that night when he came home.

When his breath fell on my face.

It always smelled like bitter death.

I remember the way he jerked me up

and we went into the hall

where he told me my mom was a whore

and he told me that I was a whore

and I don't know what happened next.