Slow Blues For My Brother Poem by Kevin Kiely

—tide is out and sunset streaks the corrugated sand
she tells me this is seen in the veins of every hand

lucky to mourn in her house where blossoms are more than a dozen.
I remember what you'd asked for—a bunch of red-roses brother, chosen

foretelling many years ago. Last night, I saw the cyclical-trillions individual
humanity in flower: distinct, isolated, residual

pluck a dozen from outside the window: bring your brother these roses,
she said, so I plucked two budding roses on one stem, and bought another ten

I need infinite repair with the lady of the golden hair
who is sitting by the window in her reclining chair

reflected as a snapshot in time, I sing the blues for you
Desmond, trying to make grief rhyme

reflected in every shop window
like torn clothes upon a clothes-line

—After weeks and months of chemo-crucifixion
you had a few jokes thru this affliction

beyond labyrinths of memory, time spools with singular speed
childhood photographs replenish my plaintive need

you wore a logo T-shirt, floating on a sea of morphine
your hand already dying, the summer in full sunshine

days later I tried to sing along the Foyle's Westside
listening for Dylan's Watching the River Flow upon the tide

so I offered you to the earth and to the sky
to the immensity you know, to the highest of the high

I stalked into a church that softly wailed coincidentally
to Soul of my Saviour (you'd have said)sentimentally

all this recall brings arrears of tears
my lighting candle in the holder made of brass

some fading lilies adorned the catafalque of Jesus
the stone banner proclaimed ego sum resurrectio et vita.

—When did you sip from a glass, and tell me about your gesture
(it must resurrect me)your body donated to medical research

no religious funeral, or the pomp and piety of a church
except for a ceremonial testimonial memorial

I put some background music on
Prelude: E-minor op.28 no.4 (Chopin)

I drove past road-kill carrion, traffic skimmed by out of habit
a dog, a cat, a badger, a blackbird, and even a rabbit

too late for the taxidermist these remnants that remain
today the questions startle, I am trying to explain

do we form these roots for a few seasons, amidst joy and pain
losing everything through this consummation again

lovers kiss and dissolve into each other's presence
so much closer to their original quintessence

the thistledown, the skeleton leaf, spiders, cobwebs, dust
the planets dance like Mars, sunshine looks like rust

I meditate on sand: the equivalent amount of your body weight
letting it fall through the air—when we are human our love is great

so grief is for the living, and the dead see how they go
O bury me down in the deeps of Dante, Whitman, Lama Gyatso

the ways of impermanence lead to the bar counters of heaven
angels serve the liquor there a long time after eleven

I tried to hide behind sunglasses, my voice was broken and low
but still I need to sing for you, I want to sing again for you, bro