"Odd True Fact" by Jennifer Martelli from DIODE POETRY JOURNAL

Odd True Fact

It only makes sense that one sister
will be the last sister. I swore
not to leave junk, like my parents did:
black pocket combs in a cracked mug,
a pig-shaped oak carving board, a tin
colander punched all over with stars
to let the hot pasta water flow through
with a hiss into the sink. One sister
will see all the funerals, one will have
neither sister at hers. A friend posted this
odd, true fact on Facebook. The deaths
of my parents were nine months apart,
a full-term pregnancy. How we walked
through their house—each room, each
closet, all floors—with dark green Glad
trash bags, their mouths open, loose,
and hungry. Throw it in! Throw it all in!
we'd yell. The oxidized brass tie clip
embossed with the White House, stainless
steel tweezers, kitchen and pinking shears.

Copyright © 2025 Jennifer Martelli All rights reserved
from diode poetry journal
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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