Three Brothers We

three brothers we;

now Leopards spots hang happy as a nail;

the barking trees dance sundown to a crawl;

 

as peasants to the Porcupine 

the thin man sucks the colours from the dead.

fortune or faith? bullhorn or water-bed?

no final wish for the heart that turned his eye.

his final breath came silent as a snake;

 

what now we do,

we strangers in our perfect pose of sorrow?

we have walked more miles than the roots left unattended.

hungry men no older than the sleeping violin;

too proud to beg a solitary tear;

 

how many mothers came and stared us down?

face down to grave we dared plead providence

searching for the birth-marks on the flowers as they wilt.

in Thanatos disguise 

we dared to wish them dead as apricot;

 

but how dead are we?

     as dead as circus-hands on the black swans neck!

          less honest than the working day is long;

               three brothers we,

                    face down to grave still pleading providence;