NOW THE COLOGNE
will never drop lower in the bottles.
And I’ll never go to sleep again believing
that touching them
or anything of his
will lead to an arm around my neck.
But it feels like an arm
around my neck,
wrenching, just thinking about how
I’ll never go to sleep again
believing him or believing he
will eventually
come home, because
he won’t, and now I guess I should love him more,
like he’s my favorite,
which is hard to do
because he was my only brother, and
already my favorite.