I remember the sound of Mary’s voice
as she screamed at her brother
” Get your ass in here and do the damned dishes.”

I remember her dark hair in the brown recesses
Of a poorly designed kitchen with an avocado fridge

I remember the color of Mary’s lips
as she told me she was going to move away
to Cincinnati or Peoria or somewhere warm,
“I deserve better than this,” she said.

I remember her brown eyes in the dark shadow
of a short hall between the dining room and creaking stairs.

I remember the hurt in Mary’s eyes
as she saw how unattractive she really was
in my eyes. waddling up to bed
alone.

I remember her.