GARTH GRAEPER
BROTHER CABIN
[NIGHT]
the lake
turns in the cabin’s
light, trees
at intervals grow
smaller & on
fire
I try not to stare
at the cabin
wall, buried with
just its neck
above the grass
*
drunk, watching
waves rise in the
leaves, this butcher wind
with no sound, no
smell
remember
winter? I lay under
the wind & came
apart, afraid
to have the light
& the stone
walls to myself
*
I make shoes
wash the sheets
pack them both
in the hot oven
& take a walk
wash myself
in the dark
then make
new shoes
+++
BROTHER CABIN
[MORNING]
I gather wild
heads, their restless voices
calling across the lake
I could not keep
within myself this morning
I boiled two &
ate one
a pretty little head
over my shoulder
7 years old
but in blossom, still full
of the heavy
juice
*
my brother
told me fingers
wrapped in yellow
flowers are the mark of
two bodies
in one grave
*
trailing him
through the breeze
& shadow
poems, scattered
across the lake’s
gray surface
the water overtakes
me, so I sleep
a few hours
my pants spread &
wet, reaching all
the way down
+++
BROTHER CABIN
a long shaft of sterile
inward light
passes through the early milk, an iceberg
in the dark, heavy
waves
*
my heart
does not shine
for vengeance, drifting
through the cabin at twilight
straightening the linens
*
we will write again soon
about a brother
whose who was not
deep enough
to hold us both
+++
BROTHER CABIN
once he was a woman, tall and darker than me; when she went missing
he was a quiet back alley, a loose-jointed body
in an unwashed pile; when the field is scrubbed clean
iron is what remains: a chain on our legs
stretching out to the woods, digging down until it reaches a cavern wall
and further down in a trickle of water
*
in breathless pursuit
three men dig into his back and take off his feet; his new body
luminous in the winter moonlight, running
through the woods; he carries our whole family, the names and the faces
through rows of oak, his new legs built with openings
too narrow for us to pass through
*
blood can be traced for miles, but they were not quick enough
to find us in the valley;
this night and heartbeat survive in our mind
even as shadows darken over our bones: a flickering light, an unexplained echo
a strong, short shove that will send us safely under
until we resurface, leaving a mud-covered body near the river