Tipton Poetry Journal – Winter 2022
Skimming Surfaces Maureen Sherbondy Lifeguard of tiny creatures and younger siblings, my brother floated. Net in hand, he skimmed the water for sinking flies and spiders. Ever attentive, later too he kept watch over me as I entered high school, even drawing maps to guide me through teenage angst, so I wouldn’t get lost in those noisy hallways. Now, recalling the kindness of his ten-year-old self, I can’t come to terms with the disparate actions of the man he’s become, how he flattens spiders beneath his polished banker’s shoes. How now he only skims those slick city surfaces for stocks and gold. In fact, when I was in need of rescuing, those dark shoes-they even stepped on me.
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