I Don't See My Brother Much Anymore

I don't see my brother much anymore...
Not like thirty-five years ago
when I was much younger,
and he seemed much clearer.

Those days he'd barge
into my life hourly,
often even more,
whether or not
I could tolerate his arrival.

Sometimes I longed to talk,
but other times
I hated his ruining my life that way,
making me remember
things better forgotten.

He'd show up all unconcerned,
giving me that younger brother smile of his,
looking up at me
questioning me
destroying what little sanity
I had managed to knit together.

Twenty years ago
his visits grew less frequent...
I got too involved
with my own living
to spare much time for his interruptions.

Still, he'd arrive unannounced
when I'd least expect,
hammering into my life,
shattering the peace
I had somehow plastered together
since his last visit.

I don't see my brother much anymore.
But even now,
I'd return every day
of the thirty-six years
since he killed himself
just to touch his hand again.

Or maybe
just to scream at him.

Koby

One of the dogs who owns me
somehow learned that a growl
means love...
he came to me that way.

Big and powerful
growling fiercely
wagging his tail
showing his huge canines
licking my face
all at the same time.

Sometimes,
just once in a while
even less lately,
he grins
showing those long canines
and
growls that deep tiger growl
waiting to see if I still love him
or
if I believe the worst.

It's just your inner tiger
I confide in him.
So he relaxes when
I, showing no fear,
kiss him
right above those
terrifying teeth.

Though I wonder
if he knows
deep down inside
he scares me still.

Perhaps that's
the point.