My brother is younger
than me. I see hunger in him
for vengeance. Now the dim
distance from rim to rim—childhood
has become adulthood.
Adolescence is rude ruin.
We were fighters who in
friendship wrestled, brewing anger
behind the shield while our
blades turned ‘round, aimed for the world.
Neither of us hurled
headlong with flag unfurled. We sneak
the breath from you. He’s weak.
Always was. Bones will creak and tell
the hidden inner hell.
And thus, we slowly fell upon
each other, and I won
the family. The blade was his
though. He abandoned this
feud, clutching in his fist his breath
and life, thirsting for death.