3

(Hand-Me-Downs)

Wallflowers always
have the best seat in
this house,
and while I’m no flower,
I’m no participant,
merely observer,
alone,
clinging to a wall of
concealing shadow,
making crucial
decisions about things
I can’t see clearly,
blinded in exile, in darkness
Suffering is visited,
suffering succored,
transformation,
incidentally ill-advised
but unavoidable
I’m behind, bereft
but for second hand
news flashes,
visitations in fog,
vivid as
hand-me-down
nightmares
from a dying twin
A creak, a pause,
a bitter moment of
cold uncertainty
A solitary, unmarked door
creaks open to
infinite choices

Poem by Shane Douglas Keene

READ THE SERIAL NOVEL BY JOSH MALERMAN