My name is Mayhem. Some of my friends tease me,
Call me Unruly, Weird. I prefer Eccentric, Unique or 
King of Chaos.
I am writing you today to tell you how much 
I miss my sister. Her name is Normal
And she is not coming back.
Not true! Not true!  So say well-meaning friends
Who saw her today walking barefoot in her sundress;
Floppy straw hat on her head,
Her brown hair dancing on her shoulders.
The sidewalk Strand, the busy waterfront, the beach
Her home, her kingdom
Until one morning,
The dead bodies washed ashore,
Hypodermic needles impaled
In their arms, blackened skin
Tourniquets wrapped tight in kelp.
They saw her, she my sister,
A woman called Normal
And she is not coming back.
I imagine her crouched behind the door inside
Her beachfront bungalow, covering her ears to muffle
The gunfire infecting the air;
No one these days is safe.
Her long walks to the pier to laugh with the sea birds
And whisper secrets to the waves, now too dangerous
She dare not navigate the miles of yellow tape
And rowdy crowds of conflict, the world now
A crime scene writ large.
I texted her too late, she had already moved on and out
The screen on my phone went blank,
Hollow beeps trilling in my ears.
Normal is gone, and I know
She is never coming back.