My sisters never knew

There was a sibling who might
have preceded me into the World,
I say ‘he’ as I had three sisters already
waiting in the wings with growing
impatience for a male candidate
to bind with fledgling love;
‘he’ as it is unthinkable our mother
might have conceived another girl.

I was told of the sad miscarriage only
when I observed a disparity in dates
on which we celebrated birthdays.
The gap between Mavis and me was our
brother stillborn. It was a slow-growing shock
to me and I still mourn for my brother, I still
mourn for an ally and friend whom I never
knew, assured he would agree.

There was a sibling who would have
preceded me and made the World
a less perilous place, a brother who
would have loved and protected me
but never was. And when I dreamed of him,
staunch and beautiful with features hewn
from the same living flesh, he was me
and my sisters never knew.
© I.D. Carswell