brother text

i shoot a rocket into our father's face. 
in the summer, we don't have the same hair. 
you, with the dark curls & me with the waves 
of deep brown. you call me & i don't answer
because i'm in a ping-pong garden
waiting for you. it is morning or it is night.
bees die in your window. i know they do.
your room used to be the attic where we played
until the moon showed up & knocked
on the roof. our parent's house has colonies 
in the walls. ghosts & bugs & daggers. sometimes we 
manage to get coffee. we take turns lying
to each other in the way only brothers can.
i will i will i will. i wake up as you & fold my body
like a dress shirt. we used to go to church 
& take turns washing our hands with
the peach scented soap in the big stall
with the sink inside. over the speakers, the priest
blessed all kinds of body. i still cannot believe
you went to mass during college. we didn't see
each other much then. me, only when
i was driving home & i wanted to be loved.
you, only when you wanted to tell me
about a girl who didn't love you back.
our father's face shatters into a million pieces.
like his flecks of beard in the downstairs bathroom
from shaving each day. we played once
in the garden. neither of us even needed hands.
you asked me, "do you remember? do you remember?"
& i always answered "yes" even when i didn't.