“I’m a born Catholic and death has always been brother to my imagination.”
I’d be an only child except for him,
sleeping in my room with me at night,
our twin beds side by side. When we toss
the rock for hopscotch, he always rolls a ten.
One-footed, I teeter and bend
to snatch that stone and hop home safe and whole.
Whatever game we’ve played, he’s never lost.
Quick at jacks, sharp at cards, fast and light
on his feet when we skip rope. My role
as his sister is to keep him amused
lest he should grow bored and try to leave.
I tell him stories, make him believe
he is invincible when he is not.
He’s a fool, but he’s the only brother I’ve got.