John Grey
My brother doesn’t say a word.
Never has.
Never will.
At any hour, listening,
I hear nothing.
He’s invisible by day,
black at night,
so I never even get to see
his lips move.
It’s thoughtless of him
to have never been born.
Maybe he figured it was for my own good.
What if he was more handsome? Or smarter?
But I could have dealt with being the other brother.
Instead, I had sisters,
older and mothering.
I was coddled but never contrasted.