Is that my brother behind that mask
whom I grew up with fifty years ago?
I'm too far away to ask
his name, can't take the risk
of getting closer to touch, to know
if that’s my brother behind that mask
whom in the summer I would bask
with in the white sun. We would go
to the lawn's edge, too far away to ask
our dad if when the day turned to dusk
he would take us to the car show.
Is that my brother behind that mask
who in his sad days tapped the cask,
then took his bloated body in tow
and now's too far away to ask
why he left me with the task
of burying our father, his grave I sow.
Is that my brother behind that mask?
I'm too far away to ask.
--
Marc Darnell is an online tutor and lead custodian in Omaha NE. He received his MFA from the University of Iowa, and has published poems in The Lyric, Blue Unicorn, Ragazine, The Literary Nest, The Pangolin Review, and elsewhere. His newest book is The Sower from Cyberwit Press. He has forthcoming books from Impspired Books and White Violet Press.