the void

the mattress in the dead
child's room
has been stripped of sheets
and pillows, it sits bare
on the iron railed frame,
hardly used, it seems.
the toy box with a name
engraved is closed.
a ball, a bat lie
in the corner, a small
hat. the sister tells you
that her brother is
fifteen years old now
in heaven,
then shrugs, and says,
it's partly the reason
we have to move.