A poem for my distant brother
No more backpacks
Suitcases
Camping stuff
Dirty socks
Crumpled clothes hanging everywhere
Open books
Closed doors
Sound of music leaking out of your room
Smell of pot
Deep drags on cigarettes after drunken hours
Your excited voice on the phone with friends
Your loud joy over a meal, your louder disgust over another
Your vertical eating in front of TV
Empty bottles of shampoo and the shower tap left on by you
No door suddenly opened
You… walking on carpets with shoes on
Mum shouting soon after
You ignoring it anyway
You apparently ignoring everything
And yet
Noticing all the details
Your late comings
You
Groveling on the bed
Face down the pillow…
And here I am
Scanning this still house
Picking every scattered memory of you
Hoarding nostalgia
To gargle through the days to come
Without you…
June 2014