abel-bodied
by Rowan Geddes
my brother hogs the blankets when i
sleep over in his room at night.
i wake up in the morning cocooned not
by the navy blue duvet or the thin,
gray, plaid sheets but rather enveloped in
their absence—caged by the metal bed frame,
and only warmed by the righteous indignation
i will levy at the drowsily warm boy
asleep beside me. he's still smaller than me
at this age by a good nine inches
at least, but it makes him easier
to carry. our mother says i shouldn't
put him on my back, that holding him
hurts us both, but i like
the warmth of his head on
my shoulder, the faint but steady one-two
beat of his heart in my ears. he's small
still, so i let him win every fifth round
of cards we play, and i pretend to be
upset when he really beats me, which
happens more often than i think
i will ever tell him. he’s lighter than me,
still, so when we sit on the swings on
the set our father built, i get up to push him,
pulling him up above my head, grinning
when he laughs as i let him go.
oh, won’t you laugh for me,
little brother? won't you
smile again when i let you go? i had hoped once
that you would be the happiest of us—
you, our brother, and me—i said to you once
that i hoped you would be happy
because selfishly, i did not think i would,
and, selfishly, i wanted at least one child
to leave that house happy if not whole, and yet
it seems i, selfishly, have doomed us both.
you were laughing when i let you go but
god, i hate my empty, empty hands, and now
i am reaching out pull you back down—oh
brother, oh,
my baby brother,
won’t you hog the sheets once more? i don't think
i'm strong enough to play at
carrying you anymore, and we’re too old
to keep pretending she wasn't right
to stop us. oh brother, you and i, we're cut
from the same miserable cloth, aren't we?
wrapped in the same, itchy, gray sheets, caged
in the metal frame of a bed i've made
but now refuse to lie in alone.
won't you forgive me? i'm coming home,
and i know the bed's been cold
for a longer time than i pretend to believe,
but i promise i won't be mad
if you hog the blankets again. just let me
carry you, let me hold you, let me pretend
we aren't buckling under the weight.