What the Wolf Moon Woke

A poem for my brother Oscar, six years gone

Oscar and his dogs, his happy place. ~2016.

For those new to my newsletter: Thank you for joining in and reading. For those who’ve been here along the way, many will know this newsletter is one that attempts to hold grief and joy side-by-side, much like my book. Today is no different as I mark the sixth anniversary of my brother Oscar’s passing.

I wrote this poem last night as the full moon kept me awake, its light reflecting off the snow and through my window — light traveling from sun to moon to snow to me.

Ben, my husband, told me that the Earth has reached its perihelion, the moment in the year when we are closest to the sun. Perhaps that is what woke me or perhaps it was Oscar reaching through the darkness to beam his smile into my heart.

I’ll be back tomorrow with an invitation to join me and friends for some beautiful writing and reflection. Until then. <3

The Potato Thief

To know my brother was to know a person

who stole crispy potatoes from the baking sheet—

sizzling so hot they burned his fingers

and the roof of his mouth—

over and over again

before dinner was served.


To know a person so filled with puns

they came out in tidal waves so strong

they took us down in peals of groans.


To know a person who loved dogs so much

because they didn’t know his gait was bumpy,

his eyes droopy, his smile crooked,

because he knew they were as close

to a God’s love as this Universe allows.


To know my brother is to know a person

who taught me lessons I am still learning

in the shadow of his loss.


To know my brother is to know a part of me

that remembers all of the pokes and pranks

and tears and struggles

and longs for one more smile.


To remember my brother is to listen

to the potatoes as they lie on this hot tray

and swear I hear the steps of a potato thief

giggling behind me,

waiting for his chance to steal away.