Antietam Creek

 

Antietam Creek

We dog and housesat
in a big stone mansion
for a rich family every summer
gathering aunts and uncles   
near grassy rolling battlefields
where a hundred years ago
cousins slaughtered cousins.

Cousin Buff was my summer buddy
throwing tennis balls for Cookie
who dropped them slobbery at our bare feet.
One time gently between doggy lips
Cookie brought a crumbling hip bone
and the sheriff said Yeah, poor kid,
because so many were so young
and their bones preserved better
as if they wanted to grow old.

Buff was always two years taller,
liked banjos, laughed at city music,
said si-reen instead of siren.

Then one summer Buff had a girlfriend
with an actual bosom and I was still a kid
like pressing my face against glass
as he left my life.

Buff died I learn from a Facebook
photo of an old man I never saw
blaming abortions and gun control
for his cancer and I bet if he met me
we would fight.

…..

First published in Sheila-Na-Gig. Thank you editor Hayley Haugen.