The Sunshine Bringer is Dead

Rain came down in sheets the day Russel died.

Mam packed his things in an old trunk and set it in the river. It wouldn’t sink, so she shot three holes in it.

Kids danced in the rain. One was struck by lightning, but he was okay. Lightning we could control.

Russel used to be my best friend, but that was before the sun struck him. Before he fixated on speeding up the fall of man, as though that would heal things. Before his seven-year drought.

People ask if I’m sorry I killed the sunshine boy. I’m only ashamed.