Elevators (For Billy)

I think you were eleven,
well I remember you as being eleven,
you died before I was born

stories about impish acts
in the shafts of elevators
my mother would regale us with

then, I didn’t think of the pain
crushed skull, broken bones, collapsed lung
did you try to jump?

sinews and snippets
snap, snap, snap-ing!
that final moment before you knew

or maybe it was instantaneous
like the reverse of waking
a sudden sigh exhaling

that’s how I will always know you,
small uncle, the boy
who played in elevator shafts.

About the Poet:
Jennifer Caroccio is a Queens writer, now living in Brooklyn. She has been writing poetry since she learned about the form back in elementary school. Currently Jennifer is pursing a MA degree in Postcolonial theory and Latin American literature at Brooklyn College. She also teaches writing composition at her school, as well as doing babysitting and copy editing.