My feet take root as you remember
how your brother-in-law would smile through
his last days of colon cancer, how your sister
would get angry with him for his happy death,
and he would ask her, “Why are you angry?”

How your niece and nephew screamed at you
for using ammonia to clean the room while
your sister was bringing him back from the hospital,
how these children accused you
of trying to poison their dog,
then ran away when you stood your ground,
how they found their mother,
told her their side of the story,
and she took their side.

I comment on the mind-heart split,
how what she was really angry about
was not his rational acceptance
but that he was not sharing his feelings about death,
trying to account for tragedy in an enchanted world.