The Maynard
Fall 2017

Brian Jerrold Koester


Kurt wasn’t two yet
and I wasn’t six
when Mom put him
in a drycleaner’s plastic bag
and left him on the floor.
The boy who never sat still
sat still, smiling.
I’m no hero, but
I crawled in
and we sat together
while I kept the bag open.
Mom came roaring at us,
but blood wouldn’t have looked
like an accident.