After I Hit My Sister free verse by Tut Linen Whoosh went the brush and snapped at my ass with a smack. I hated that hairbrush— medium width, light brown, strong. It hid away in the depths of his room. I never saw it used, but I felt it. I heard it. “But she hit me first.” I hated that look of disappointment, but it was his duty. He filled the chair we kneeled around every night to read stories. Our eyes locked on him, our minds on his words.
Duck gumbo from the hunt. He smiled from the head of the table— his gray hair parted softly— a reminder of the brown brush. Later that night he sat in my chair, and I in his lap. With the Lord’s Prayer and a hug, my dad said, “Goodnight.”
The redness faded as the pillow absorbed my screams and tears. I crept downstairs.
Written under the mentorship of David Huddle Woodberry Forest School
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