brother 

he calls me to tell me there is
a hole in his wall.
i ask him
if he made it
& he says "yes."
i tell him to look through it
& explain to me what he sees.
"there are stag beetles 
& handcuffs," he says.
i know this is not a good sign.
i try to remain calm.
to be an older sibling
is to always be a hatchet.
you are what is reached for
when there is a bear 
at the back door.
i ask him if he can
get in his car & drive to
the nearest wawa so we can
eat bananas & talk about
how to get out. 
he says, "how would i do that
without any legs."
the line turn to pineapple
& stings my mouth.
i go to the upstairs
where no one will notice
& i make my own hole
in the wall. i see the same.
stag beetles & handcuffs. 
now, also, a little man 
without a face. 
i patch the wall. his stare
haunts me. i am not sure
if he is my brother or me.
i call my brother 
over & over but he doesn't
pick up again.
get in my car with 
what's left of my legs.
drive until there is 
no more sunset to spend.
weep in a wawa parking lot
just to find him there
drinking lemonade
& praying to a new idol 
he's found. i hold him
& ask him if he would consider
joining me in spending
a whole weekend 
both of us just the size
of beans. he refuses.
he had a garden in his head. he has
a thunderbird to catch & release. 
before i know it 
he's gone again & i am there
with no one to call. 
the telephone goes
right to the sky's belly button.
i let it ring & ring.
leave a voice mail 
for god or my brother.
"please let him be okay," i say.