The Only Dream I've Had About My Brother, Lately
Jeff, I dreamt I was looking for you.
It was like an X-Files; dark
blue and black, cold and vivid
like when Mulder followed that alien
to the North Pole and almost died.
Scully saved him, of course.
My dream was like that only somehow
I knew what had happened.
You and your friends
had climbed a glacier.
They made a snow cave to sleep in.
During the night the cave gave way.
You refused to leave.
The glacier enveloped you
as you froze to death.
The night after you shot yourself
mom dreamt you were standing there,
in her bedroom, tall and brown
like the wheat fields around the house.
She talked to you and you were so real
she woke up, screaming.
I’m still waiting, Jeff,
for my visitation. I’m losing faith
in spirits and signs, maybe aliens,
because the sky is thin,
clouds wisp to white film and I know
you would have come to see me
if you could.
Even in my dream I’ve come too late
to save you, too late for anything
but your corpse. Your hands
are still tan and thin,
delicate, but your face
has swollen strangely,
turned blue as the horizon.
copyright Kristina Coker