The boys who are brothers

The boys who are brothers

one nine, one twelve,
have ruined me with their grins and pranks,
butterfly kisses and passionate hates.

The boys who are brothers
with their iPods and Wii Games,
their bearded dragons

have ruined my scansion.
I’ve lost my place, the
nihilism of aging admits

no great-grands, so many generations
absurd to fathom, the brothers
who are, after all, boys

force a hopefulness
hard for a hardened woman
to endure.

 

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One Response to The boys who are brothers

  1. mark says:

    i hear you

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