When sister Nancy dies, people foist her voice.
Nancy would want you to be a lawyer, put aside fantasy.
Nancy was soft. Why can’t you control your temper?
What they don’t say: Nancy loved cruising through wealthy neighborhoods blasting Elvis. She volunteered for Kennedy because life was in stasis.
She drove to have nowhere to go and everywhere to put behind. They omit her late-night tears, conjuring futures rife with kitchens.
After I dispute their truths, they say I’m dishonoring her.
I leave town. Drive. Keep driving. Nancy’s ghost smiles.
I keep driving, her smile widening, laughter rising into the vast air.
Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program in fiction. Yash’s work is forthcoming or has been published in WestWard Quarterly, Café Lit, and Ariel Chart, among others.