Garage Sestina
Built first, hilltop. We moved in before the snow,
bunk beds in the loft where Bram and I would sleep
until our new house had walls, heat. Blue
light from the fishtank, tetras and pink-fleshed frogs
swimming back and forth through the night.
The tank and satellite TV were everything we needed,
our mother in the kitchen kneading
bread. Wild rice from the neighbours, first snow
falling on the green tin roof. Our father worked nights
at the hospital, Mother sipped coffee while we slept.
When did she sleep? She sewed quilts, CBC and frogs
for company. Mornings, the pines sent blue
shadows down the driveway, and Bram too, blue
superhero of himself, garage door open to the snow. Need,
want—we didn’t know the difference. A frog
floating belly-up after half-swallowing a fish. Snow
to bury their bodies. We didn’t know Bram was sick, sleepless
above me, needing insulin. I wasn’t afraid of nightfall
yet. Radio’s low murmur, my mother’s even breath all night
on the other side of a bookcase. Salamanders stencilled blue
and pink in spraypaint on the concrete floor. Asleep,
awake, my mind scurried with colour. Mother’s needle,
a quilt she called “When the Geese Come Home…”. Snow—
so much we couldn’t go to school. Simon Says and leapfrog
off the futons. Finally, winter’s grip slipped. We squatted frog
legged on the shore, possibilities flip-flopping under ice. Night
came slow. Our new house a skeleton wearing snow
like pearls. Sawdust, cedar. Coin smell of earth. Then Bram’s blue
veins straining in the hospital. Bram needing
so much, Mother refusing sleep,
and me, I felt lucky. I got to watch more TV, sleep
deeply a while longer. Sneak up on snakes and frogs
by the lake, still guilt-free, needless
to say, unworried about what might sneak up on me. Night
half-swallowed by morning. Black sky bluing
at the edges, warm breath over the garage, snow
dissolving like sleep. Dust, boxes of mice. Night
hawks hunting, frogs keening in weeds. Blue
evening, animal needs exposed, and so many months until snow.