Those words have so many connotations,

denotations, demarcations. Brother.

Dear in human sense, yet I am more

brotherly with others than with you.

Reasons, unreasons, causes, casualties

are and have been many since you were ten,

now uncle to children you have never

met. Unreasonable, but with reasons.

My wondering where you are is tinged with fear.

I know that you are better now because

our sisters keep you closer and inform

me of your progress, such as it has been.

I hope you’re not on the street, or if so

that you are in your minivan. I hope

another woman has taken you in,

but fear for her, whoever she may be.

We share the same step-grandfather—grandma

Anna Mae’s second husband. He always

had a soft spot in his heart for you. Odd,

I see you in his picture on my wall,

and wonder why you look so like a man

you are not related to directly,

yet have always been so estranged from those

whose very eyes, voice, blood and bones you share.