Jim Brewer Poet Prose Poetry

Family Gathering

SIX FORTY-FIVE A.M.
                                                    (FAMILY GATHERING)

You knew I was scared
Of flying almost as much
As I was scared of you.
Yet, you decided it was time
For me to fly in and
Watch you die.

The phone rang at 6:45 a.m.
What else could it be?  You have been sick
Forever.  After twenty rings (I counted), I picked up
The phone and my sister stated the obvious:
He is dying.  We are
gathering the family.

I said:  This time for real?
Because you had died at least once
A month for the past six months
And I had received nothing
For my fear except useless
Frequent flyer miles.

You knew I’d come even though I hated family
Gatherings almost as much as I hated 
Flying . . . you.  I packed a small bag,
Boarded the plane, and took four Xanax.
I passed out for the duration of the flight
And for the entire time it took you to die.

Eventually, I traded my frequent flyer miles
In for an i-Pod.  And since your death
I have refused to attend 
any family gatherings.
I have not had to fly.
I have not been scared.

Copyrighted
Jim Brewer
April 28, 2011

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Sara Kendrick April 28, 2011 at 12:26 PM I get sick when I fly so I guess that I can understand your fear of flying...Enjoyed reading your work..I hope that this was not about a bad relationship..I get that feeling reading between the lines..Sara