in memory

Brother, she says,
write the poem
I will whisper to you,
but he is afraid
the words will not
come out right.

Brother, she says,
her voice rising
from a pile of ashes,
when you crossed the ocean
and felt sick to your stomach,
did you feel sick for me too?

Brother, she says,
among dead leaves,
when you fell in love the first time
and you felt the original happiness
and everything in you was giddy,
did you also feel happy for me?

Copyright © 1996 Raymond Federman