To My Brother
Dusting the dirt from your old stone
cob webs blown in by way of Chicago
like bird feathers hiding our name
seems centuries since you left me
a pre-pubescent ghost child
I remember the brown beard grave
on a snowy cemetery face
legless eyeless lifeless
beneath mock mahogany
I feel your skeleton moving me
slowly inviting me to share
your eternal home of dirt
soon I must say, must whisper
for wind has ears and hears
fears tears and loss.
We are lost forever you and I.