my brothers & i eat lemons.

each fruit paired into quarters.
they roll through the front door
as if it's not there. a barrier 
is often just an outline. we take turns 
spitting the slimy slim seeds
into the carpet. my brothers are 
loud & multiplying. i have a brother
for every day of the week. i have 
a brother for each one of my fingers.
they are smaller than you might think.
a few are small than a lemon.
our house is green which was their decision.
i voted for soft peach. we painted
with our hands, slapping paint
until it was done. a brother
is a kind of father. the lemon tree
is the rest of the world. fills the windows
with leaves & winking. the tree flirts with us.
wants to take a lover 
into its branches. wants us to come outside
& see the bloom of 
its small white flowers.
never trust citrus. our mouths pucker
like sinched waists. we wear
over-sized t-shirts. mine has 
an asterisk in the middle. 
t-shirts also often grow on trees.
my brothers press their faces
to the glass windows & make smudges.
i order them to clean their mess. i run
a spotless house. i am not 
a father. i am not a mother. 
there are parents in a portrait 
on an end table somewhere or maybe 
my mother is the lemon tree. the tree that 
swells larger each day. the moon 
is a pale lemon. 
in the morning when we all squeeze lemons
over top of the bathtub 
till our hands sting with the juice.
take turns bathing 
in the sharp liquid. feel electrical
like a wire made of teeth.
i power a light bulb by
placing it in my mouth. my brothers splash 
& play. the rubber ducks melt.
we eat more quarter-lemons.
our tongues dissolve into bones.
mouths full of bone. organs turned 
to marbles. fragile as we are
we insist on play fighting 
in the living room. if we did have 
a mother she would stop us.
we smash tables & chairs. lemon juice pours
out our wounds. i taste myself
from a gash on my forearm. 
there are more brothers now
& even more brothers to come.
silently, i wonder if the house 
will hold them. they put each other
in head locks. they take lemon breaks.
the tree hums & rolls more fruit towards us
in through the chimney & the passage ways.