When mother found my brother under the porch
that day, she said five words we'll
never forget: "I love you this much"
Smiling, she held her hand out,
space between her fingers
not more than two inches.
From the age my brother could walk
we have wrestled. Bear cubs
on our Persian rug. I remember always
holding back, five years older
was way too strong. But now, he is bigger
and when we fight, I cannot bruise him,
only print my nails on his arms,
scattered animal tracks left in snow.
And when I come home, tempered by
small experience, spitting at those who
cross my path, my brother stands at our
kitchen counter announcing, I love my
sister this much, space between his fingers
not more than two inches.
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