I did it, blood brother; I stole your body from the morgue.

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Remember the time you swore you wouldn’t push me down the hill in Dad’s wheelbarrow but you did anyway and I hated you?

I do         as I slump your dead weight into that same rusty cart.

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Remember when I had to dissect a cat in anatomy class and my lab partners smiled as they used the blunt side of the scalpel to crack skull plates?

I do         as your formaldehydic body leaves a trail in our slow-going wake.

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Remember all of the county fair goldfish we won by tossing ping pong balls into milk jugs and remember how easily they took to floating belly-up in their fish tanks?

I do         and now you’re buried with the best of them in the stony Wisconsin soil behind the house.

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Remember when we promised each other poison if our minds went before our bodies did or if our bodies hurt more than the fear of death did?

I do         and I’m angry, angry, angry with you for dying differently and without my consent.

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Having lost my sisterhood, whose hand will pull the plug for me when I’m ready?