X

"I have decorated this banner to honor my brother. Our parents did not want his name used publicly."

The boatpond, broken off, looks back at the sky
I remember looking at you, X, this way
Taking in your red hair, your eyes' light, and I miss you so. I know
You are you, and real, standing there in the doorway
Whether dead or whether living, real. Then Y
Said, "Who will remember me three years after I die?
What is there for my eye
To read then?"
The lamb should not have given
His wool
He was so small. At the end, X, you were so small
Playing with a stone
On your bedspread at the edge of the ocean