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Plastic clocks with built in smoke detectors:
Made to chime on each and every hour—
And we’ve manufactured time, to hang time
Above our kitchen table or a door.
My mind will know its place as night—
Which it cannot know—describes turning snow
Falling over prairies us siblings searched
Far and wide for the tree where our brother
Could hide the bones that showed the near-same size
As his own—those when stuck against a stone
Made a sound that’s like a word so old
You forget your age, for better or worse—
And without it, the gray night seems redder
Over trains and window lights, light
Glazing over breathless sights; secret ledge
Of life, my brother’s vantage point, where life
Exceeds its town-like symmetry, its plan.

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