Member-only story
Brother
Dec 2, 2020
Two days before he died,
At night, in the rain,
I shared a cigarette with my brother, Pete,
We talked of nothing, of everything,
I knew I loved him,
But not so much.
Death, he said to me, isn’t anything,
Nothing more than
Bird-song when you listen
Real close.
I told him he was a bad liar
And had he been talking to those doctors again?
He smiled. Fell silent.
And everything soon enough fell silent
when I left him, in the morgue,
Sunset had left the sky
The black rain of Manchester
was fading now to blue…
O! Pete! when I saw you last
I felt that anything that’s
clear and full and high
and free and good
would do for when you and I
smile together into eternity….
