My Sister’s War Prophecy, c. 1980

My older sister whispered
as we shifted from wake to sleep
that WWIII would happen when
I turned eight. I’ve done the math, she said,
but don’t worry, eight’s a pretty good age
to die, like Johnny, he’s eight right now.
She wasn’t sure which country would start 
the war, only that it was imminent. She spoke
calm and with certainty, as if the war
was like Christmas, or some other holiday.

Earlier that day, we had flipped through 
our grandfather’s musty Book of WWII 
with its yellowed fringe and gray pictures,
buildings and bodies cracked in ruin.
A child in one, sprawled across cement steps,
a pool which could have been water or oil
but we knew was blood.
A creak of the spine and it was over.
Then we went upstairs for sandwiches.

Sara Dallmayr is originally from Kalamazoo, Michigan, where she attended Western Michigan University. Dallmayr’s work has appeared in Laurel Review, Third Coast, Sugar House Review, Penn Review, and others. She is a public school librarian in South Bend, Indiana, where she lives with her husband and two cats.

Appears In

Cagibi Issue 25