Brothers and Sisters

“The slippery green frog
that went to his death
in the heron’s pink throat
was my brother”
      Mary Oliver

Still my brothers sing
their hoarse chorus
around reeds
and mud. One whole

summer I listened,
a boy in love with
morning mist and sound:
lapping water against

a solitary boat
and the early
twittering of birds.
My sisters dance

among birches;
their willow
hair hangs down
on branches and rocks.

They have heard
die, and in sun’s
cold glare,

their frozen
sparkle into shards
bright as silver darts.

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Steve Klepetar

Steve Klepetar

Steve Klepetar’s work has received several nominations for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net, including three in 2014.Recent collections include: Speaking to the Field Mice, Blue Season (with Joseph Lisowski), My Son Writes a Report on the Warsaw Ghetto, and Return of the Bride of Frankenstein.
Steve Klepetar

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  • Mary McCarthy

    Beautiful poem Steve, a sense of a holy solitude in company with only these “brothers and sisters” who,sing and dance without words.