The good deeds began as an arrow

DeMarco as a boy

whittled from a thin green branch

for his little brother


Though DeMarco turned to dodge

the sharpened point of the arrow

fired at him in an angry moment,

it grazed his cheek, leaving wide a scar


DeMarco’s good deeds for his little brother,

the addict and felon, continued many years


The scar, a red ragged curve,

blanched white in middle age

when the letters for money stopped —

DeMarco’s face such a twisted fright

his infant grandson screamed

when he sought to hold him


Nobody else thought much about

DeMarco’s scar except to ask,”Well,

whatever happened to the little brother?”