YOU WOULDN’T KNOW
Sometimes I find myself looking
for your name in my phone until I remember
you wouldn’t answer even if I called.
Before your line was canceled I used to let it ring,
go to voicemail, just to hear you say hello.
I still go to your Facebook page,
look at all the pictures you posted,
all the bragging you did about me, the girls.
Grandma still tags you—I hate it,
but we all have our ways of talking to you.
Your clothes are still hanging in the closet,
your earrings are still on your bedside table.
If it wasn’t for that wooden chest
on the bookshelf in the living room,
you wouldn’t even know you were gone.
You wouldn’t know that I watched
as your breaths grew further and further apart,
that I sat at your feet and put my head on your legs
until I didn’t hear you take another breath;
you wouldn’t know that Oliver licked your hand.
You wouldn’t know that I watched my sisters
walk into the living room, turn around, see you.
You wouldn’t know that I was paralyzed
as Grandma cradled the girls, shrieking on the floor.
Bio: Samantha Miller is a sophomore at Lenoir- Rhyne University. She is currently unsure about her major, but knows that, whatever it ends up being, her creativity will be at the forefront of everything she does.