Fever

Schneider 73 Pat Schneider Fever for my brother, Sam That I loved you fiercely, we both understood. That even in first grade when the other kids complained to me that you had disobeyed their rules, I came up fighting mad and claimed you utterly. When the Red Feather people gave used bicycles out to needy kids and yours was good but mine had all the threads worn off the axle, you waited at every streetcar crossing while I eased the front wheel across the tracks, and lifted it by hand back up the edging of the curb, riding on the sidewalk with the wheel not bolted to the bike, and more than that was loose, wasn't it, in our neighborhood: whores on the corner, winos in the gutters, and be at home when the street lights come on, Samuel. When I was sick you went with me to the clinic. I was twelve years old, fever burning in the privacy of my closed eyes, waiting in the hall for some stranger to call my name. And he did, the doctor. And Mama wasn't there. And perhaps he was confused about a girl child alone, 74 the minnesota review perhaps he was a man who didn't understand how it is with girls. He turned to you and said, "Do you want to come in, too?" and told me to undress my breasts and I was twelve and you were not my brother, you belonged somehow to that man and you were grinning at me there exposed, and enemy, enemy. ...