Irish Stew

“How?”
“Overdosed.”

Today I walked, earbuds
Wrapped in belt loop to
My classes–my
Brother was dead the whole time. I
Listened to music and sang
Guitar riffs and thought of
His cracked palms and the guitar
Broken B string at dad’s house. My
Brother was dead the whole time.

“Thought he was clean—stupid
Fucking kid.”

I didn’t have the nerve to say I
Knew my brother’s brain was
Hardwired for self destruction. I
Stared at the floor and watched:
Today I drove to our dad’s he
Handed me a bowl of
Irish stew and told me my
Brother. My brother.