Little Brother


Are you happy there little brother?

You've gone to the land of

glow-in-the-dark planets, Wellingtons

and winsome sugar sunshine.

I keep

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

already missing


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.

I mean

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

milo powder

I guess I still haven't realised


all the chocolate pudding and

milo slush

in the world... won't ever

bring you back.




A/N: What do you think?