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my brother hums through
my memory as September
bright and with
autumn as a maroon scarf

if he makes some of my mistakes
or all of them
I pray he doesn’t break his back
marking down his sins
for I am a fool
when it comes to myself and mirrors

and if he fails
or drops out of life
if I see him only
through my memory
I’ll burn the ones that cloud
his sprawling, his carved obelisk