Michael Spinelli

Wichita Falls, TX
Michael Spinelli
Wichita Falls, TX

Sister Snow's Fourteenth Year

She died the day her mother died.
We all saw it.
We watched.
Stayed silent as her lungs were rid of clean air.
Who needs air when you have pot smoke?
We watched as blood drained from chasms in her chest.
Who needs blood when you have booze?
Her Snow-White skin had turned cocaine.
At least that’s what we saw.

She’d be my sister no matter what she did.
No matter the hurt she caused them.
No matter the hurt she felt.
No matter the drug that calmed her.
She’d be my sister no matter what she did.

She died the day her mother died.
I felt it
as I watched.

She kept that apartment.
It was all that remained.
She used to show me where her mother
Put on makeup and brushed her teeth.

She’s finally moved out now.
For fourteen years she had decayed
“No more suffering” She heard her mom.
“That’s enough! ”

She died the day her mommy died.
Fourteen years ago today.

For weeks she’s been in drugless sleep.
Laid in the casket, finally home.
Monday, July 26, 2010
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