Delinquent

Mari Mourgues

the first night my brother tried drugs

he jumped over the moon.

when the pills our parents pushed down his throat had

lost their taste,

he tried to wash away.

he dove deep into the reservoir and sometimes I wonder

if when we turn on the tap,

we are still pouring out the tears of teenage boys.

that first night my brother tried drugs,

I watched as he jumped over the moon, and smiled.

our father complains that he looks dazed,

but no more than when my brother tried to drown in drink.

I tell him that when his son’s eyes become red oceans,

the tides will ebb away the pain.

I tell him that the first night my brother tried drugs,

he laughed like my brother again.

he kissed my cheek,

and he filled his stomach for the first time in weeks.

I tell him how he grabbed my hands and spun me around

till we twirled into the heavens;

and we giggled as we brushed against the stars.