Work Text:
We were all there the night before
you were smiling at me, and I remarked how it had been a while
and we were never religious, but there was an Advent wreath upon our door
and mud from your boots on the kitchen tile
For this was your house as much as it was mine
as much as it is our brother’s as much as it is our father’s
your mark as indelible as fate’s design
so how can it be that to you, your life is the same as fodder?
We were all there the night before--
you asked me how life’s been treating me
I said it’s been a little bumpy, a little sore
and the lights-- the same as the ones from our youth glisten on the Christmas tree
The land is frozen when on our hands you forced upon a spade
you chose a deep, dark wood, the same as your mind, the same as the desk in your room
for once in your life, your room had been tidy-- floor cleared and bed made
and a new bed had been made for you in your tomb
We were all there the night before
when our brother made dinner because you had finally come home
he joked that it was better than Christmas Eve; a glass of ale for you he poured
and when you finished, upon your stache there was foam
I wanted to speak while everyone was there
pages upon pages of words-- things I wanted to say about you, things I wanted to say to you
somehow I thought the courage that was not there when you were here would be found in my despair
yet here I am, leaning on the shoulder of our brother, a silent figure-- and he is too
We were all there the night before
our father laughed and said we were far too old for presents
and it was you-- it was you-- that said there’s things we’d never be too old for
we sat on the floor of the living room, looking back on your adolescence
Have you ever seen a father cry?
I’ve been told all my life they’re not supposed to-- waiting for the day I won’t be allowed to either
he’s dressed in all black when I see him do it for the first time-- head tilted towards the sky
so I did the same, for a father is not just a father, but also a teacher
We were all there the night before
at one point in the night, when we were all laughing, I caught you staring into the fireplace
flames flickered, reflecting off your distant eyes, all inquisitions you ignored
there and then I knew there was no cure, no fix for this sorry case
I couldn’t speak, but your friends did
there words were steady and rehearsed, like they had this prepared for weeks, months-- years
I wish they had warned me, so i would not feel all this chagrin
and I could still be a good brother and you’d be here and we’d save our father all those tears
We were all there the night before
it was a race to see who would first retire
our father lost, but he clapped you on the shoulder, probably wanting to do more
he wished you a Merry Christmas, his love for you so entire
You would not have liked the reception
it was filled with old people that smelled like old people and there was no music
No music! At an event to honor you they ignore your predilection
I would have said something, you know I would, had my the mucus in my throat not been too thick
We were all there the night before
in the witching hour a tradition started when I was two and you both were ten
--something older than my memory-- we watched for Santa, waiting for him to enter the door
or through the chimney or on the windowsill, waiting with his naughty list and a pen
For days the house was filled with all sorts of flowers
I ask our brother what they all mean
when he tells me, I feel happy; I feel sad, and there is a taste in my mouth that is sour
for I so wish you had left a flower on your desk, so we all could’ve known what went on in-between
We were all there the night before
the snores upstairs caused the house to tremble and your stocking to fall
there was something glass in there-- the pieces fell out onto the wooden floor
our brother told you not to touch it lest you cut your hands but you had swept it all
When the snow falls outside, I wonder if you’re cold
and it’s silly since you’re gone, but I still wonder
I sit and stare out the window, thinking if I’ll wonder about you ‘til I’m old
you’re still my older brother, still the one I look up to even when you’re six feet under
We were all there the night before
when the sky began to turn shades of orange and red
you got up and said you wouldn’t do this anymore
it had been such a happy night-- save for the quiet times-- I couldn’t understand why you’d gone to bed
If the springtime comes, I’ll ask our brother to come with me to the gardens
I want to pick a happy flower to lay upon your grave
I will tell you all the things you miss, read you back your poetry with my notes in the margins
next to your own, and I’ll promise to be brave
We were all there the night before
I turned to our brother the moment you left and asked him if he knew
he said of course, of course, because what are brothers for?
we stayed like that on the sofa as the sun rose, pre-grieving for you
Our father sets the table for four, still
he puts down the placemats and the plates, and I have the forks and knives
he finds it hard to look at our brother’s face, and all he says is “one day, Phil.”
I didn’t realize we all called each other by our names, like the carriage of maturity just one day arrives
We were all there the night before
and in the morning, too
your presents lay untouched, but it was hard to ignore
you were hard to ignore, you know, since we loved you
There will never be a time where on my mind you won’t linger
at the cafes and the bars when I become of age
when I go to concerts and think about how you said you wanted to be a singer
and when I come home at last to our father’s love entire after years of disappearance
We were all there the night before
I hope it was the best night of your life-- I hope it was the worst
I wished you well, O brother I adore
so I cannot even convincingly say words that will have you cursed.