Memories of my Brother

I decided I would challenge myself to write a poem for my brother every day this month and this is the result. It is rough and rugged and it is a mere work-in-progress but I'm just writing down stuff I want to say.

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6. VI

Our parents walked us over
Six-hundred-and-thirty miles
Of rock pools and beach huts
From Minehead to Poole
And I'm endlessly nostalgic
For all those negligible coves
That we hadn't the time to explore
And I don't know if you feel it too
But when I hear of Cornwall
My lungs seem to be hungry
For an ocean that would swallow me whole
Without noticing
Because part of me got marooned
In the Cornish sea we skipped over
And my toes long for the flat warmth
Of the pebbles that shredded my feet
And my tears sit beneath my eyelids
And itch like sand
Because I want to hear the call in a sea shell
As it blows my ears kisses
And lures me deep

When we started our tour
We queued up at the start line
To pay for our tickets
And we cruised the coast
Like double-decker-busses
With open tops
And I wanted to be torn from the ground to the sky and never fall
Back or put another foot forward
Foot after foot after foot
Ate up the path
But my legs were two thirds of yours
And I was two thirds of you
So you streamed ahead
Brandishing the abundance of your infinity
I promised my fatigue
And my blisters
That I would cross the finish line first
But when I started to run
You gave chase
My shorts were laced with sea water
That held me down and pinned me into the sand
Like an ex-lover it was fond of
And you had never trusted the sea
So it had not left its finger marks on you
And you broke the tape
That marked the finish and I was too aged to admit
That I was breaking promises
That I'm now unable to keep
And I know its stupid
But those six-hundred-and-thirty miles
That I whispered over with my
Two thirds body
Feel like a waste now that I know
I will never be the first to finish them
Because you don't like the sea

You know what my favourite photograph is?
We're sat on the way-marker
That points to Zennor
And we're back to back
Siamese
Glued from coccyx to skull
And my two thirds legs hang shorter than yours
But we're touching forever
Even though we don't touch
By law
And I want to shed my salted heart
When I think of how my skin
Is not made of the same cells
That once touched yours

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