BrotherSince my brother came back from war
There's been a bear-paw in his room
Each seedclaw set apart like the cells of a fan
It seems to breath
The thin hairs bristle, the claws rise, fall
The crests of little moons
He's forgotten where he found it
Perhaps the house at Illium where the art
The vases and the jewels slipped
From the doors
Where great blocks of light and marble
Fell from the ceiling and the walls
With the paw he has become enamoured
Quieter, paler and paler
He thinks like a monument
His intelligence is extraordinary
(If only we could tell)
A splinter of shrapnel is grey in his shoulder
He's as succinct as sea-shells
His bear-paw has craters
Black and depressed in it's leather
Where the specks of ash
Burned and knotted it with plaster
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