Manasseh
Loses his keys every morning
Spills his coffee on wrinkled
Button downs with novelty ties
Leaves the door unlocked
And the oven on just long enough
For the smoke alarm to notice
Causes his mother to panic
Hears her tell him it’s Nephthys
Taking him away slowly
Pulls out of the driveway with no seatbelt
Leaves file folders on the roof of his car
Watches them scatter on the unmowed lawn
Tries to write down his dreams
To show his father
Wakes up in a cold sweat to find him
Pacing and shaking in the dim hallway
Gets on his hands and knees
Puts his hand on his father’s back
Prays and his mind is blank
Goes back to sleep and dreams of nothing
Wakes up with one sock on
Can’t find the other but it’ll turn up
Eventually at the foot of his bed
Doesn’t wait for his brother
To offer to make him breakfast
Turns on the coffee pot
Before adding the grounds
Ephraim
Wakes up and waters his houseplants
With crust in the corners of his eyes
Cracks eggs for omelets
Makes spinach and cheese for his mother
Ham and peppers for his father
Would make coffee for his brother but
It’s already been made
Goes to the grocery store in a tattered band tee
His father’s old colored robe
Flip-flops his way to the produce aisle
Examines every cantaloupe in the box
Like his grandfather taught him
Fills his cart with everything labeled organic
Realizes he can’t afford it all and puts half back
Comes home and two shopping bags
Break in the foyer and fruits
Roll around on the unswept floor
In front of his father
Gets on his hands and knees
Takes an apple from his father’s hand
Prays and his thoughts are overgrown
Picks up a dented milk carton
Places it on the top shelf of the fridge
Next to the expired orange juice
Hears his brother walk in cursing
Teases him from one room over
Regrets it when he hears him shout back
About how he’s not the favorite
Hears their mother
Yell about angering Ma’at
Shuts his mouth as the door slams
Slices up the cantaloupe and eats it in his room
Inklings Literary Magazine 