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Memories of my Brother MAG
Sometimes
In memories of my brother
I swim a little too deep
And my feet graze the bottom
While my fingers still reach to catch
Hold of his kicking feet
I let reminders plaster me and
My lungs
Until I drown in all the things
We used to do.
I slipped the bark off a willow tree because
You told me to and I
Thought you were God of all
Our games
And the tree wasn’t ours but
I peeled back all its skin so I could find
A whole new layer that
Belonged just to me
Because there wasn’t much of me that hadn’t
Belonged to you
First
by Catherine Sleeman, Horsham, England
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