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.