The Palace of Bones

In Search of a Brother

In Search of a Brother As if he’d forgotten to live part of his life, He turned the rowboat back and paddled faster. Somewhere between earth and the ice, He let himself breathe the incurable blue. For a moment, time became an object, Something that could burn the tongue And grow inside the stomach. The angels must all be in one place, Brother, the birds seem to smell them And I think I can too. They are pure As the scent of Mother’s apron, Smothered in syrup and lilac. The sea stained his fingers Like a stream of blue ink, And every sign said something In Italian about danger, Though he might as well be allergic To paper and to the sky That hung so low he always felt Stuck in a sick lady’s living room. 12 You are reading copyrighted material published by Ohio University Press/Swallow Press. Unauthorized posting, copying, or distributing of this work except as permitted under U.S. copyright law is illegal and injures the author and publisher. Brother, all I can feel of you, The weight of a burning house. Slivers and demons. The wings of the crow on fire. Dead men in the snow. Our childhood books, Hot food for the earth. The sick breath of the owls. Can you tell me who I was twelve years ago? Did I know God was insane? Each of the eight lakes Has its own ghost and God Mating in the dry fog. Homesick men sail by With young boys’ eyes, Slender and delirious. They must worship something To keep their health, so they huddle In a dark circle like prophets With tea that tells the future: 13 You are reading copyrighted material published by Ohio University Press/Swallow Press. Unauthorized posting, copying, or distributing of this work except as permitted under U.S. copyright law is illegal and injures the author and publisher. Someone must die before anyone is free. Then they toast bad liquor And shake the tambourine. (I remember our lives As if they existed in one season.) A man without limbs, or was it a girl Lying in chunks of grass as we all ran To the church, the remnants of prayers Hanging from our mouths like spoiled eggs. Bells ringing and ringing in the dark Like Father’s voice when he was angry. The preacher’s beard felt safe as a nest. Then you and Father left on a train. Trains that lugged coal up the fields And I could hear you squealing Like a forbidden record While Mother and I sat there On the bench with women Holding little cakes like children. As the lanterns light up on the dock Like the eyes of a fish, he is surely in Italy. There are more stars than an eye can carry. 14 You are reading copyrighted material published by Ohio University Press/Swallow Press. Unauthorized posting, copying, or distributing of this work except as permitted under U.S. copyright law is illegal and injures the author and publisher. ...