Least Read Poems for and About Brothers

Marked! The morning
is for inspections
of what was taken.
I detect my blood pieces

adrift at sky within
capsules, the apertures
the size of a pore;
tiny purposeful ones, how many

time capsules
have been forgotten?
How many are living?
Like you.

I am deciding
my muscles to dig
up the pearl-skinned
plastic horse

in action- a forelock
perpetually aloft
laying next
to the brother's belly-up

skateboard. The burial
was not marked
as we were captainsure ...