August Sixth--A History Lesson
I.
They were playing and then
they were not.
and later
all he could find of his brother
was the long red fragment of kimono
and later still
the squalling child
beside the single standing wall.
He made a rucksack
of the kimono fragment
and carried him
as far
as he could.
II.
he would not think about
(his ribs—he could see them between
the furled curtains of his flesh)
he would not think about
(the parched landscape of his
blackened, arid face)
he would not
III.
Oh god, she was good. It was more than her ability,
(to ignore the fact that his chin was
scar tissue and his hands
were knots of melted skin wrapped around
arthritic bone)
it was her kindness.
And later
(when he was almost there,
almost)
her engulfing mouth (taught him to forget
or at least not to think)
made his core hard flesh
(almost there)
until he saw over her naked shoulder
the photo
(a boy in a red kimono)
IV.
Years later
entirely unrelated.
V.
They were shooting hoops
on the hot asphalt court
and barely noticed amid feints and pumps
(the man disgorged by the yellow cab)
amid shots and goals and cries of foul
(and later that he was gone
and oddly that his suitcase—it was still there by the red bench)
VI.
They were playing and then
they were
(not)