for my brothers
Three moons revolving around
dying planets, we spun
unmoored at the same rate,
each showing only one
face in our synchronous
rotations, hiding our dark
sides from view. We locked
into the tides of each labored
breath, each confused diatribe,
were illuminated not by the sun
but by hospital fluorescents
and dim bedside lamps,
waxing and waning with
each hopeful smile,
each panicked hurt,
a year of phases from first
ambulance’s full moon to
the second funeral.
Now we revolve inside these
black absences, excavate
the craters, bag artifacts
for further study or posterity,
uncover elements
previously unknown.
Love exerts a most powerful
gravity, so we will circle infinite
in this orbit, grateful to have
learned its potency.
We will draw our own moons
closer, teach them how
to swing out to the stars.
