WATCHING MY BROTHER GROW

My brother is the boy who plays
well with others; he’s the boy
who tries to include the child
with Down syndrome in the recess
kickball game; he’s the boy
whose bones are broken by someone
else, because he’s easy to push
down. My brother is all muscle,
but he doesn’t know how to use it.

My brother cries when
an authority figure enters
the room with pointed
finger, just like I used to.
But he cries every time
he hurts himself, and I never
did that. I’ve tried to build
an immunity to pain, so I don’t cry
as much as I used to, and when I do,
I don’t let my brother see.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s