Are you happy there little brother?
You've gone to the land of
glow-in-the-dark planets, Wellingtons
and winsome sugar sunshine.
waiting for your postcards but
they're never in the mail
Maybe it's 'cause I
forgot to teach you how
so I don't know if you're
writing us some.
Momma's crying all the time now,
crying over how you up and left
crying over your childish exclamations
and battering-ram hugs
Crying over the big toothy grin and stick-outy hair she's
I blow bubbles in the bathroom
just like we used to
soapy film wobbling between
my touching thumbs and forefingers
And I imagine I see your scrawny
beaming face, hovering next to mine
reflected in all that swirly rainbow iridescence
It never takes too long for the floating
soapiness to make me
tear, and I
swallow hard and blink as my vision
becomes a watery mess.
I wish everyday that you're happy
there, little bro.
The D-word is still
out of bounds
for Momma and I both
But it's always lodged like a thick choking
lump in our throats, ready to
spill out and join its fellas
already cramming themselves into every
nook and cranny of the house,
the letters phantom bits of your
rubber alphabet mat.
it's hard enough as it is,
finding a space to sit down and
The milo tin's empty again but
I still keep hearing the clink
of spoon against tin bottom
as I frantically
scrape up the last dregs of
I guess I still haven't realised
all the chocolate pudding and
in the world... won't ever
bring you back.
A/N: What do you think?