when a brother dies...

when a brother dies

that old elm, on the front lawn,
that we climbed and climbed as two
young boys, has seen the seasons of our time.

and that one huge limb, with nails
and still one board (where i started, with him,
to build 'our house'), and that long, knotted rope,

still swinging, so quietly; well, now
it is gone, having crashed down last winter, "heavy
with snow", Dad said; and the bark has begun to grow over.

    to lose a brother
    is to die a bit;
    without that other,
    i am (somehow) less

graduation pictures still hang, like ancient whispers,
on the dining room wall, and dusty trophies, left behind,
clutter our thoughts, as we sit

and weep together, trading snippets
of memories, with you (still) in the picture;
we search each other's eyes

in numb belief that we can, we
must, fill in the missing puzzle
pieces, left overlooked.

    to lose a brother
    is to feel
    the phantom pains
    of a missing limb.

the basement is empty now
every childhood memory scrubbed
from the walls; the elm, too, is gone;

Dad payed to have it removed, leaning
as it did, so close to the porch, and
as it was (long since agreed) too dangerous

to be left unattended; and so we search
each other's far away stares
for clues, and comfort

    to lose a brother
    questions, like a lawyer
    our whereabouts
    at that moment...