My Brother

I have come to hate my brother
The big-boned boy
Whose voice booms,
Whose voice breaks.
His arms and legs are muscle.
My wrists are bones.
I have no power over him
Anymore.

He laughs,
Drinks beer with his mates,
Plays cricket in the park.
Comes home sunburned red,
Sweating and stinking	
Like old man's clothes.
When he was three years old,
And still a plaything,
I gave him my old blue sundress to wear.
We neither wear dresses anymore.
There's just a photograph
To say he ever did.

We loved each other then,
Still small enough to sit
Two to a washing basket.

I have come to hate my brother
Because I fear him.
I fear what he has become.
What I have become.

We neither wear dresses anymore.


November 28, 1995
© Lela Kaunitz