Must needs--my brother died just hours after we were born. Twins. All my days I’ve been his brother--his brother in the minute sweeps of gravity, with clouds in my fingers, clouds in my eyes. I know everything about my brother. The shadows of night behind my ears. And this morning, early, walking, I thought I saw my brother in the branches of the lonely trees.


"The shadow of night behind my ears..." Love it.
Posted by: Georgia Whitney | January 30, 2012 at 12:22 PM
"I saw my brother in the branches of the lonely trees." Sheer poetry, Steve. Achingly beautiful.
Posted by: Carole Ann Borges | January 31, 2012 at 09:38 AM
I was wondering, after reading that you were a torn twin, whether you could feel the bond. You've left me with wonderful images.
Posted by: John Lathrop | January 31, 2012 at 09:08 PM