I don’t know why I assumed
it would be a boy. Intuition,
maybe. Or perhaps, little
brothers were all I knew.
My third sibling paused
in the first trimester
and never hit play: a frozen
picture on the ultrasound.
Mom came home, stole
to bed, and shut the door
with a clack soft as thunder.
My third sibling is a silence,
forgotten outside the quiet
moments alone, when I wonder
what his name was.