BROTHERS OF BRIGHT GOLD
I brought it all down from the attic : the boxes, the crates,
the bags of catch-all fabric. I was immediately then reminded
of all the years which have passed. The seminary hole, the
long-learning abyss, the history books all lined upon a
northern shelf. I remembered Jenny, an Irish Setter dog
who was once tied to a tree, a sapling of sorts, and just
tore that tree down in a matter of hours. You collected
guns and vinyl records like a squirrel caught nuts in a
deluge - the guns then did you in. Why you went and
blasted your brains out is always beyond me. The dead
body, 'nearly headless' they said, sat in a stupid French
car for days. The police finally did pull it out and made
a crime scene of your entire life to then. My writing
hand was strained by the force of lethal wishing.
-
Now it's so many years later I forget the brush, the
painting boxes, the zeroes and the lashes. I quite nearly
forget your face. I remember something of a very stern
brow, always, it seemed, made or tense about something.
Controlling others was a very big thing with you, but
you couldn't control yourself. Oh bright brother, I can't
recall and I can't surmise, and it doesn't matter anyway.
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