ON COTTONWOOD DRIVE

 

 

In this story my brother is four

and sleepwalks out our front door

into the dark lawn in his nightgown

 

(in truth he woke lifting the latch—

our family stories mostly abort

before they’re begun)

 

but in this story he wanders into a fight—

Mr. Mumford next door is chasing

his son Byron with an axe

 

(it was years later and he watched

from the window—we sometimes wagered

which Mumford would get murdered)

 

but in this story my father wakes

at the sound of the opening lock

and blunders into this scalp hunt

 

(the Mumfords took their fight inside

and mister sank his axe

in Byron’s bedroom wall)

 

In truth I like this version

of two versions of the truth combined

because it tells how close we lived

 

 

 

Part of Seattle Writes coordinated by Seattle Poet Populist Mike Hickey.