Sarah dies in an oak room full of sobs shaken as walnuts from the last tree. Sarah dies in a parlor, her final breaths pinched out. What is left: green stains on shoe soles, seeds like nail heads pressed into the swelling field. She will pry each plank from its studs. Her hair lies on the ground in graves. Streams wash and carry, wash and carry, meet like praying palms. Leaves float and sink beneath her curious poke. Some days it rises. Some days.
Brendan Todt is a 2006 graduate of Knox College living in Chicago
whose poems have appeared in After Hours, Beeswax Magazine,
and miller's pond poetry magazine. He has fiction co-written with
BJ Hollars forthcoming from Hobart. He will soon be leaving the Midwest for the warmer days of sunny South Carolina.
from What it is to Die and What is Left