for my unnamed brother (1943-1943)

I was left out
I was chosen second & then left out
I was left
handed I was left
to fend for myself I
was the second in
command the second
in line I came
without direction

I want the
milk I want my
first pick I want
choice & all its implications there was a

residue of
scar
between us it chafed
when we rubbed our
chests together

hello, brother, hello?
hello in there, brother, can you
hear me? it’s a long
tunnel to the grave speak

you were my
first god I was rapt in your
coming
(mother better
eat her vegetables, she better chew chew
chew)

what’s bitter between us

I want the

milk I need it for my
teeth they’re
soft the gums
bleed there’s the evidence

on my toothbrush I got the
second draft I need calcium
to make up I

got a job
& left
I don’t know where you’re
buried

what do you
need? what will make you
happy? what do you
want? the dead
do have mouths &
appetites suck it
up there’s plenty in the ice
box more
where that came from

if somebody
asked me what’s
next I wouldn’t
know I took my hands off
her like something
hot or fragile or in
pain I was
aghast at suffering how you can feed
& feed it
& it’s never
full

there’s a separation
between us a suppuration there’s just the
space of an idea I don’t know what’s
missing it’s a blind
spot sometimes my left eye
focuses & its like looking at
both of us through a
window

I’m telling you the
facts of life for
you haven’t been told
yet you’re in your late
fifties you’re dis-
eased or disinterested a
queer unable to
come out of the casket o.k.

you live this
life I’ll live the
next she only has enough milk for
one baby I’ll go
around this
time you come the
next that time you’ll have a
better mother I

promise you that

—Toi Derricotte