My oldest brother was born on this day
and to this day remains mostly a mystery
to the rest of us, all thoughts of a personal
nature stoppered up in a bottle kept in the
latched locked cupboard of his heart.
Why? I wonder.
He is like my mother in that way.
Or is it my father? Or both?
While I pour out large glasses of myself
for others to consume. Come, sip, tell me
what you think (but only if it’s nice).
