Sammy's Shitkickers

8 de noviembre de 2013 • Sakae Manning

I began to beat Sammy with his own leg braces, polished by mama to a new money shine, around the time people stopped looking at me, their eyes resting on Sammy, listening to his hospital stories, admiring his scars, a mountain range, crawling, stitch by stitch calf to heel. I would knock him in the head with his own hard, thick-soled boots. “Siblings do that sort of thing,” daddy once said as he puffed on a well-chewed pipe, smoke connecting …