Oh, brother.

“I remember you and your brother 

were inseparable,

Where’s he? 

Why doesn’t he visit?”

But how do you tell an outsider

of depraved gunmen who

broke into your house,

your life

And made your brother

break into your body

or die.

How do you unremember

begging him to

just do it, 

just do it

So the gun pressed to his skull

would not go off 

How do you forget

the loud click of an empty chamber

that still resounds in your ears;

their loud laughter

as your brother avoided your eyes

and you avoided his. 

How do you learn to say,

when asked:

“He’s fine oh, he’s fine.”


One thought on “Oh, brother.

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