"i'm just upset right now"
was all a twelve year old could
comprehend.
"i'll wake you up at 4am,
we'll go to breakfast."

fragile
and
unaware,
i had my
suspicions.

i stared my sister in her
glowing red
eye
as she stared
right past me
visualizing
any possible
alternative.

she approached the couch;
head in hands, she was
.

"goodnight, i'll
see you at four,
i love you."
the closing words of
the evening.

two'o'clock
in the afternoon.
i am awake,
with gratitude to
my ringing
phone.

"happy birthday, mom, how is costa rica?"
no response to my statement
but,
"how is she doing?"
"good, she's asleep,
i believe."

"go wake her up."

phone in hand,
her room is cold.
porcelain skinned
lay sleeping beauty
waiting to be rescued,
soundless in bed.

an attempt to extricate her from slumber:
a push on the shoulder,
a pull on her hair.

"she's not waking up."

red and blue
consume the streets.

escorted by a stretcher
crayoned white,
she is camouflaged.

declared dead instantly,
the diagnosis: drug overdoseage.

happy birthday, mom.
welcome home.

with four years passed,
i lay awake at 4am
still waiting to go to
breakfast.