A.T. Grant

Dead Brother Speaks:

My throat opens. The tunnel made flesh. I make myself a smoke body and send my smoke body into the tunnel. I sing into the black. I sing Dead Sister back to me. Sing a strawberry into my belly. Into the bugs’ mouths. They choke on strawberry seeds. And a bird cracks off a branch. A bird flies right through me. The branch grows from a crack in the wall. The branch grows from Dead Sister’s mouth into mine. The walls crumble. It is frightening to watch so much fall. To see the blackness that remains when the blackness has gone. To watch a bloodflower grow in the blackness. To stack dead bug on top of dead bug. My prayer is a sine wave. Square wave. Saw wave that cuts the bugs in half. My wave bends the river. The tunnel.

My wave cuts across the wake.