The Bits Left Unsaid Between Brothers

The Bits Left Unsaid Between Brothers

A Poem by Ken e Bujold

A half-gone christmas pudding, some expired breath mints--
seems you're living high. So,
has anyone been around to dingle your tingle,
made bet on the most likely
date of your long surmised departure?

Nothing comes of nothing, not a thing
I cared to keep enough to remember
or absent-heartedly slip out of your pocket
when you fell feet first into my well
ordered life. The doctors mean well
I expect, but Christ, isn't there a pill, 
or something syrupy they can prescribe,
maybe a quick hammer to the back of the skull,
faulty brakes on the old go-go traveller?
Maybe a week with Alice, you remember Alice
don't you, remember Alice....

Trying to get through to you
is like baking ice cream on the 4th of July,
eating confetti by the pieces, once
you've picked all the blue bits out.
They say, I hear, I'm not that deaf
I can't hear you when you speak
backwards in time of time being
locked inside the bottle--Jim Beam
wasn't it?

Mother says hello.

Ken e Bujold

© 2022 Ken e Bujold

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There is brilliancy here in the blue bits and brothers.


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Added on September 21, 2022
Last Updated on September 21, 2022


Ken e Bujold
Ken e Bujold

Somewhere in Ontario, Canada

Writers write, it's what we do. Fish swim, woodpeckers peck... writers scribble (inside and outside the lines). more..