Across the world my brother marches to a steady beat,
while back in Wyoming I float in a pile of letters
addressed to his dear sister. He tries to comfort me with
words, but a line of text can’t hold my hand and
wrap around me like a security blanket.

I think of a childhood song and hum to myself,
trying to send away worries along with the notes
as they disappear into nothingness.

You’ve got to
accentuate the positive
eliminate the negative
hold on to the affirmative
don’t mess with mr. in-between

The meaning of these words is a light bulb
trying to go off in a blind man’s head.
It is debatable whether that is even possible.
My brother can’t look back, I know telling him
my worries will distract from his duties
and, god forbid cost him his life. So instead
when I write him, I must accentuate the positive.
Try as I may it’s hard not to take the negative
into account.

I cannot bring myself out of this hell of a home alone.
What I need is patience while my brother fights, with
his words to lead me out. “In time,” he says, “in time,
you’ll leave the fire and torture that you don’t deserve.

My brother marches to a steady beat,
one, two, one, two, repeat, repeat, repeat
repeat. I follow his marching and pray he
won’t look back. He needs to focus on the
war at hand, so I must not distract him with
the war back home. I know my brother and I
know his love. If I give a hint that I need him
he’ll want to come rushing, and when he
finds he can’t, he’ll lose his mind.

I do my hopeless best to reassure him.
I don’t lie but I’m forced to eliminate the
negative. I leave out details that will crease
his brow and set his mind off like the gun by his
bed, extracting his brain from his life in the
trenches.

I take my delicate hand, sore from being clenched
in a mixture of constant fear and anger, and draw it
slowly across the uniformed chest in his picture.
I pretend I can see through the camouflage that hides
my name written in cursive with ink I’d like to believe
is as permanent as his love for me.

I wish that song had made sense sooner,
because as soon as I realize what it’s telling
me, my naivety and optimism has lost a life.
My Orpheus looked back, I made the mistake
to cry for help and his head turned around
faster than an Olympian.

We are both now in a separate place,
his love was what drew him away. I
stay in hell from where he promised to
remove me, and he’s up in heaven wishing
he could save me.

I messed with mr. in-between and told
him what I knew would upset him. I acted
out of greed for my own comfort.

In his place,my heart marches to a steady beat,
one, two, one, two, repeat, repeat, repeat,
repeat.