Saturday, July 25, 2009



We are both close to fear,
my brother and I, boom babies,
witnesses to an age saturated
with violence. Him, a virgin
at twenty-five. Me, used
and afraid by sixteen.

I want to hug my brother
tell him how much I’ve missed him.
Night has not been the same
without a sentinel looking out
the window, searching.

Thank you for understanding
what it is to be a man
without the bling hanging
on my neck or a gun in hand.

I want us to see the dawn
while our faces turn
to each other, and the clothes
we wear burn off.

© Sergio A. Ortiz 2008

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