For Gracie, who the genes took…

You never saw
the thirteenth summer through-
before the genes
claimed you.

You always were –
the sallow one, knuckle-
kneed, paper thin, but –
the lights in your
jaundiced eyes shone:
through pain and fear,
and hope and tears.

The strength in your voice
never dimmed, never waned,
until the genes – like a
belligerent marabout’s curse –
turned you,
to a mound of red-
dead earth

You never saw
the thirteenth summer through-
but like a wound left raw
We remember.