A Word From My Brother
Location
He handed me a golden city
one day, dropping it in my hands
like an old man releasing a burden,
one that made a home on his shoulders and
knocked hard on his head.
It brushed his chubby fingers,
was scratched and faded, like
it had been lost and forgotten
for part of a lifetime.
“You have a silver one just like it,”
he said, “remember me when I am gone.”
The words were strange in his high, small voice.
His brown eyes had seen more
than they should have.
“Remember me when
I am gone.”