MURDER

Saturday, September 28, 2013

Murder

My uncle’s brain

weighs fifteen-hundred grams
the pathologist says.
Fifteen-hundred
grams of childhood laughter,
of being a baby brother,
of other sacred lives,
listened to and remembered,
grams of prayer and solitude.
Fifteen-hundred
grams kicked around by a polished shoe,
before being dropped into a silver tray
and weighed.
Fifteen-hundred
grams on the only scales of justice,
either he, or we,
would ever know.

©Copyright Niall OConnor 2013

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