My brother is a magpie–

he’s always collecting baubles, rings, amulets

to hang in his ear, around his neck

I bought this tarot charm, the lovers

he tells me

and lost it the same night.

But I met someone, then,

so it was like an offering.

He can’t resist books, either.

Classics, poetry, blank journals

to fill with his impatient scrawl.

He writes notes in the margins,

lends them to his friends.

Sometimes they write, too.

When he rereads them,

it’s like they’re having a conversation.

His white wolf walks with him,

the one he rescued.

The one who was once chained under a bridge.

She is otherworldly calm,

staring out from her mismatched eyes.

Always looking for him, following him

quiet as a shadow.

He’s become a character,

my brother,

out of an interesting novel, or a fairy tale,

or a myth, or a coming-of-age story,

or a worn copy of a travel epic.

His gestures, his gold curls

his jewelry, his bold clothes

his satchel, stuffed with books

his faithful, four-legged companion

I watch him from the corner of my eye,

waiting for him to draw a sword from his hip,

vanquish trolls with just his wits,

find himself, somewhere,

as the hero of his story.

Not the villain

not the supporting character

but the protagonist,

flawed but kind

brave and smart

surrounded by loyal friends

and, in his head, his heart, his pockets,

everything he will need

to go on

Rosalie Hendon (she/her) is an environmental planner living in Columbus, Ohio. Her work is published in Change Seven, Pollux, Willawaw, Write Launch, and Sad Girls Club, among others. Rosalie is inspired by ecology, relationships, and stories passed down through generations.