---

 

This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “Lonely Visitor” Down in the Dirt v209 (7/23) Order the paperback book:

Order this writing in the book On Stones and Bones the 2023 poetry & art collection anthology		get the 182 page poetry & artwork & photography collection anthology as a 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Brother

Kyle Singh

You weren’t yourself or really yet slouched over,
just a little lost for words, your unwashed face caught
within a small amount of doubt, which turned you
back into a man, someone– I guess– with wisdom.

I never quite got to know you, but I knew we would always
be interlocked, even in my dreams– or was it just hallucination–
It was almost as if we were trying to meet again
in the park hidden behind a dead end, broken swing sets,

sand always emptied out of the sandbox: that was the story
of why I chose to call, but even though we are siblings
I was shocked into the idea that we were symbiotic,
the physical stature of your posture: right beside me,

unshaven and stubbled, distant and still reciprocal.
Why is it so difficult, with you right next to me,
to feel like you’d rescue me from a burning building?
Why does your smile look so different from when

my hand touched your forehead as children? When I
saw you resign, reliable filled with warmth, it was clear
why we chose to travel across state lines, clarity of the bond
– two broken in mitts– we knew not to embrace.

Forgive me. You came back when I asked you to leave,
so I could speak to you without forgetting that this back
and forth is a kind of shimmering. You will always be younger,
and still your forehead gleams. Run your car over the glove;

break it in.

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...