I did not feed them.
I did not bathe them.
They were my brothers in the unicorn
puberty
of a bewildered
timeline.
I did not home, I did not love
A dove brought back
a better dove)
I still break
brother
that one
bone
in that third place
where babies make
the face
of god) I still tell my son
that Jesus had two brothers
die
in the same hunting accident.
Numb
my brain is like an angel’s hand.
My son buys a gun from a man
who follows naked things out of the water.
I confuse waist
with wrist
and can’t keep from dry heaving
in front
of a puzzled infant
reeling
from its time
with memory
kingsoftrain 
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