KR OnlinePoetry

Elegy for Brian, My Brother Who Has Been Missing for Ten Years

At the laundromat off Guadalupe I find
out you are dead, my ear wet-ringed
to the cellphone. My load of darks spinning
in the dryer’s black hole Hula-Hoop.

When I find out you have died, I am playing
miniature golf with Jules. The only course
in Georgetown, Colorado. I cheat that
last hole-in-one, chuck the pocked ball

through the clown’s front teeth. I am reading
peacefully, Voigt’s Headwaters, in bed
when I get the call. You have died. At Shapiro’s
Deli I eat the best Rueben of my life

and you die midbite. I taste it. I won’t eat
sauerkraut anymore. I am at the bus stop.
I can’t tell if that man is whacking weeds
or metal-detecting. You didn’t die, then,

but I was waiting for you to. The truth is I’m
always waiting. Is that a field of dandelions
he is headed toward? No, they’re yellow
flags meant for marking gas lines.