GARTH GRAEPER

 


BROTHER CABIN

          [NIGHT]

 

the lake
turns in the cabin’s
light, trees
at intervals grow
smaller & on
fire


I try not to stare
at the cabin
wall, buried with
just its neck
above the grass


*


drunk, watching
waves rise in the
leaves, this butcher wind
with no sound, no
smell


remember
winter? I lay under
the wind & came
apart, afraid
to have the light
& the stone
walls to myself


*


I make shoes
wash the sheets
pack them both
in the hot oven
& take a walk


wash myself
in the dark
then make
new shoes

 

+++

 

 

BROTHER CABIN
          [MORNING]

 

I gather wild
heads, their restless voices
calling across the lake
I could not keep
within myself this morning
I boiled two &
ate one


a pretty little head
over my shoulder
7 years old
but in blossom, still full
of the heavy
juice


*


my brother
told me fingers
wrapped in yellow
flowers are the mark of
two bodies
in one grave


*



trailing him
through the breeze
& shadow
poems, scattered
across the lake’s
gray surface


the water overtakes
me, so I sleep
a few hours
my pants spread &
wet, reaching all
the way down

 

+++

 

 

BROTHER CABIN

 

a long shaft of sterile
inward light
passes through the early milk, an iceberg
in the dark, heavy
waves


*


my heart
does not shine
for vengeance, drifting
through the cabin at twilight
straightening the linens


*


we will write again soon
about a brother
whose who was not
deep enough
to hold us both

+++

 

 

BROTHER CABIN

 

once he was a woman, tall and darker than me; when she went missing

he was a quiet back alley, a loose-jointed body

in an unwashed pile; when the field is scrubbed clean

iron is what remains: a chain on our legs

stretching out to the woods, digging down until it reaches a cavern wall

and further down in a trickle of water


*


in breathless pursuit

three men dig into his back and take off his feet; his new body

luminous in the winter moonlight, running

through the woods; he carries our whole family, the names and the faces

through rows of oak, his new legs built with openings

too narrow for us to pass through


*



blood can be traced for miles, but they were not quick enough

to find us in the valley;

this night and heartbeat survive in our mind

even as shadows darken over our bones: a flickering light, an unexplained echo

a strong, short shove that will send us safely under

until we resurface, leaving a mud-covered body near the river


 


TYPO 16