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?”