Little Brother - Shakespeare's Monkeys

Little Brother

For Jake: you are not forgotten.

Crimson velvet fetus,
you held a name once
in tiny, tight fists
suffering a leper's curse
with hands like thorns.

It ate you, all of you
from heart to lungs
to strawberry lips,
until you emerged from
the womb in sterile,
white cloth;
not squalling,
but silent.

They said you died
without ever drawing breath,
but according to law you
were never really born.

You didn't hear me,
you cannot hear me,
but in the pale dawn of
that night, she named you
through quivering lips
instead of a pen.

Little brother,
your name was Jake.

Shan -

This is incredibly sad, beautifuly written

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Life is what happens while you wait for great things.

Life is what happens while you wait for great things.

Tracey -

My eyes welled up in the first stanza. "Crimson" and "velvet" are not words one expects to find as describing the word "fetus," so that's one hell of an opening line.

In rereading this I find it perfect, moving, a beautiful tribute to your brother.

The only thing that bothers me is a lingering question -- what is the condition that ravaged him so?

Excellent poem, Jasmine.

Jasmine Mann -

Awwww, thanks guys! I've been trying to write this poem for 4 years now. I'm so glad you guys like it.

I'll give you the story. Maybe it'll make for a good short story one day:

My brother was stillborn 4 years ago. I was 20 and living in Houston while my mom was living in Ponchatoula, LA; a 6 hour drive from me. In the second half of my mother's trimester, she found out he had Trisomy 18 or Edward's syndrome: a chromosonal disorder akin to Down's Syndrome or Trisomy 21. Almost 100% of children will suffer severe mental retardation, congenital heart defects, malformations of the digestive tract, severe bone growth retardation where the bones in the hands and feet will fuse together, and many other defects. Babies with Trisomy 18 have a 5% chance of surviving to 1 year. Most are stillborn, like my brother Jake. He was born 4-6 weeks early and my mom felt him die 2 weeks prior in her womb. I remember her calling me to tell me she couldn't feel him anymore. Once she called me when she went into labor, I got in my car and made the 6 hour drive to see him born, but 30 minutes after my mom went into labor he came out. My mom kept his body for me to hold when I finally made it. I can't explain it. Here he was this beautiful, perfect little boy. Looking at him you wouldn't be able to tell he had Trisomy 18. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open. At any moment I kept expecting him to cry, but he didn't. I stayed that night in the hospital with my mom. From there everything was a blur. There was a funeral service for him, and my mom had him cremated so that when she passes away, she wants my brother, sister and I to spread both of their ashes over the Grand Canyon so she can finally see her baby.

"Milk is for babies. When you grow up, you have to drink beer." - Arnold

Tracey -

Thank you for the background story...so very sad. Your mother's wishes for their shared ashes is lovely.

And, YES, there is most definitely more for you to share/explore writing-wise.

Laurie -

What a touching story Jasmine. The poem is a lovely tribute to his memory and it evokes such sadness.