I read brother in another poem
and immediately think of him:
wild, contrary,
secretly caring deeply,
handsome, discreet as a stone
with our secrets,
braver than me.
And so I think,
should he not have been
the older brother?
Would, then, the things that happened
not have happened
if he’d been the older,
because some warning
would have sounded
when he met the abuser?
Or, maybe, in part, he is these things
because I was the sandbags
so that the breach wouldn’t happen
further in, further on down the line.
__________
“For My Brother” by David McLoghlin. Find more of McLoghlin’s work in his new collection Waiting for Saint Brendan and Other Poems.
I took the picture at my ranch in New Ulm, Texas a few days ago.
Advertisements
FlutePlayer said:
Cheers brother.
Russel Ray Photos said:
Thanks for letting me camp out in your blog for a little while today. I had a great time and tried to leave my campsite as good as when I arrived. I’ll be back!
New York Peristalsis said:
It was such a pleasant surprise to see that you posted this. I’m honored. All the best, David McLoghlin
jrbenjamin said:
David,
It’s an honor to know you’ve seen it. I absolutely love the poem, and am waiting to receive ‘Saint Brendan’ from Amazon. If you look at the rest of the poetry on my site, I think (and hope) you’ll find yourself in some good company.
‘For My Brother’ is such a great work; I only have sisters, but I read it and think of an old friend. Beautifully done, and thank you for commenting.